


Devotion

by Nymeria_Snow



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fights, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Justice, Love, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 112,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5237969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymeria_Snow/pseuds/Nymeria_Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of my beloved Anders and Lyra Hawke. Smut, fluff, angst and hopefully an interesting plot as well. Enjoy!<br/>Note: My Anders is taller and less muscular than the original one. I think, he should be built like that in the game, but they're clearly using one body type for all the fighters. He looks like a warrior, which given his profession and poverty is really unlikely (you can picture Tom Mison from the Sleepy Hollow series and you'll get the image). In my story he wears his black feathered robes from the very beginning, cos I really love them ;)<br/>Lyra Hawke looks like Katie McGrath from the Merlin series, only with bright green eyes.</p><p>The Sweetest Devotion - Adele is their song </p><p>Your feedback is most welcome!</p><p>And I have to thank Anders' Kittens for encouraging me and my awesome editor from their ranks ;)</p><p>Finally the credit goes to Bioware for creating all our beloved characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Final Struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Lyra Hawke and Anders... they have some issues :D  
> their pics collage is at the end of the chapter ;) they're GORGEOUS lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW :)  
> Song:  
> Howl - Florence and the Machine  
> Halo - Beyoncé

Lyra Hawke dumped a heavy sack on the floor in front of the infuriatingly charming healer and stretched her back in a catlike manner.

“Your noble messenger is here, bearing gifts.” _I’m keeping the good brandy though, to drink myself into a stupor, imagining your long gentle fingers running down my body, the taste of your tongue in my mouth, the teasing scratching of your four days stubble and the feel of your chest pressed against my bare breasts._

As if reading her sinful mind, Anders grinned and raised one eyebrow. “I love gifts, they make me almost pacific. But surely you know, you can just ask me to pick them up at your place. Don’t ruin your back dragging it down here, Hawke. Or are you in need of some remedy?”

_Yes please, I badly need a kissing remedy for my sore lower back… and bum, come to think of it.._

Ignoring her wicked mind, Lyra shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, trying to look less greedy and needy.

_I’m not the smitten kitten, I’m not the smitten kitten.... I’m the wild cat! Damn it!_

The wild cat the smitten kitten for now. “Well, I don’t mind some extra exercise, and besides you might break something on your way.”

“Riiiight, cos the bags are usually full of fragile china not packed with food, blankets, and clothes for Darktown’s poorest mothers and orphans.” Under the scrutiny of his warm eyes with visible crow feet in outer corners (she adored these wrinkles, when he smiled), Lyra felt like a child in front of the omniscient father.

_He knows, of course he does. As well as does the whole party. I’m pathetic, making excuses to see him almost every day._

Anders sensed her discomfort and moved on, he didn’t want to back her into a corner and tease further. She shouldn’t be teased. Well she should, but certainly not for her unmatched generosity and care.

“Would you help me unpack and organise your much appreciated provisions or are you in a hurry?” A simple, safe question.

Wordlessly she opened the sack and pulled out smaller bags filled with flour, oats and corn, tiny glasses of the sweetest forest honey, apples, dry meat, laying it all on a wobbly side table. Lyra welcomed the distraction that ceased the familiar fluttering inside her belly. _Why is he still effecting me so?_

Anders joined her and grabbed a larger sack, peering inside curiously. “What’s in this, Hawke?”

She continued unpacking, face down, green eyes hidden behind the curtain of her black tresses. “That’s for you, few things you might appreciate.”

Anders smiled, touched deeply with her devotion and kindness. “I’m really grateful but you shouldn’t have… socks? You got me seven pairs of socks, a comb, a shaving kit and .... four pairs of spare breeches… _monogramed_ breeches?”

Lyra’s cheeks turned a soft pink shade, she cleared her throat, and blurted out the line she was preparing all morning. “I thought you might need some nice ones… for the ladies… or gentlemen… or _ME_? Although come to think of it, I would prefer you without any garment on.” She met his gaze, trying to read his expression, hoping against all odds to get the answer she longed for.  

A strong impulse to hug her ran through Anders, a sudden lump in his throat left him speechless for a moment of pregnant silence. Partly thrilled, that Lyra still showed interest in him, yet resentful for these moments, moments he hurt her feelings, rejected her over and over again, buried every promise of something more than friendship. _Why hasn’t she moved on finally? I can’t resist this temptress forever…_

“Oh then I fear it’s a waste, as there are no ladies or gents to impress... _There can’t be...”_ In a barely audible whisper and with sorrow in his face he ended once again their moment. “And most certainly not _YOU,_ Hawke.”

A frustrated hiss escaped her lips. Lyra was done with their game, done with him. The long accumulated one-sided affection manifested in anger and spite. “Then you can just cut your ridiculous tail off, shave the rest of your girlish hair and… and… and use these breeches to polish your stupid bald head.” And with that she stormed out, slamming the door behind her with great gusto.

_Stupid, handsome, charming idiot of a healer!_    

               

……………………………

Two days later

Spending two tiresome days delivering five screaming, perfectly healthy children into the foul air and feeble light of Darktown, Anders finally caught a break. And somehow he ended up standing in front of his dingy little mirror, with the shaving kit beside the water basin and with sharp scissors in his right hand. Holding a thick strand of his dark blond hair, scissors ready, he hesitated.

_This would be the end of the cocky, flirting me. If I do this, she would know, I don’t want to get involved. Ever. That I don’t want to hold her, to kiss her, to touch her, to worship her. Except that’s precisely what I starve for. I’m devoted to her like no other... And that’s ultimately the reason I should make the CUT…_

“Blondie! Stop the vanity, I need you to back me up. Hawke is probably about to do something extremely stupid. She had a murderous expression on her face today on our usual stroll through the Gallows and worried sick about Sunshine. A life threatening combination!” Varric shouted, already halfway out of the clinic’s door, taking the healer’s help for granted.

_Fuck!_ Anders put down the scissors, quickly tied his hair back into a messy tail and splashed his face with clear water. How could he face her? She might hit him, or worse, ignore him entirely. He needed a moment.

Hawke’s estate    

"Hawke, be reasonable! You can't just march into the Circle and fight a horde of Templars to get Sunshine out of the bloody prison. We'll figure something out I promise, just don't do anything stupid yet."

"I don't bloody care, Varric! There were three more Tranquil today in the Gallows and Bethany didn't respond to my last letter which I sent a week ago! I need to see her and get her out! Now kindly let me get dressed and armed or I swear I will knock you down!"

Lyra stood in her dimly lit bedroom screaming at her beloved friend, trapped in the worst nightmare she could imagine; her little sis was in grave danger. Lyra couldn't just sit in this comfy mansion drinking wine and doing nothing about it. She wouldn’t!

A tall figure suddenly appeared in the doorway, crossing the distance to them in long determined strides. She didn't need to turn her gaze towards him because she would know him anywhere.

_Oh that flaming bastard! Couldn’t he just stay down there, buried amongst his potions and poisons, all charming and hot and impregnable? But no, he has to meddle and humiliate me further. He’s here to patronize me, to treat me like a stubborn, foolish child… to keep me safe. Don’t you dare, Anders!_

She knew, deep down, storming the Circle was a crazy idea but what else was she supposed to do? Send Meredith some flowers and chocolates via a nice bedwarmer to keep her mellow?

She rounded on Varric instead: "I don't need a babysitter, Varric! Why? Do you think I will let him talk me out of it?"

"Well obviously he is a little bit taller and much more dark and twisted than charming little me, so please, talk to him! Hope I see you in one piece tomorrow, Blondie!" the usually jolly dwarf shouted resignedly over his shoulder slamming the door on his way out.

Lyra didn't even look at Anders and strode to her armor stand beside the door. She almost reached it when Anders pinned her face against the door and firmly held her in place.

"Anders, what the hell?! Let go!" She was furious and oddly powerless. She tried to trip him but he was standing with widespread legs, effectively trapping her own together with no possibility of movement. His left arm wrapped around her shoulder preventing Lyra from elbowing him in the stomach and his right crushed her palm to the door itself.

She hadn't expected him to be so strong with such a roguelike build; all of the mages she knew were just soft flesh and she always pictured him as such. Tall and tough, yes, but not strong enough to easily overpower her. Lyra could even feel his well defined upper arm muscles straining with the effort to hold her still, his powerful chest pressing against her rigid back and those long legs of his almost rooted to the floor.

"Only when you stop trying to storm out on a pointless, suicidal mission. You can't accomplish anything, the best you can get yourself is imprisoned, or worse, killed. And don't bother to fight me Hawke, there's nothing you can do to win. I know every move of yours even before you think of it." That honeyed voice of his threatened in her right ear, his breath warming her earlobe, those lips almost touching her hair above.

The perfect combination of sandalwood, fresh parchment, elfroot and something unearthly that was distinctly Anders engulfed Lyra, her mind drunk on the intoxicating, familiar fragrance.

All those painful years of longing, need and passion for this troubled, extremely powerful mage - she just couldn't hold back any longer. He always turned her down because some crappy noble reason like that he is an apostate, has merged with a spirit, is barely capable of feeding himself, and thus has simply nothing to offer beside danger and poverty… as if all those things could really scare her off!

So now or never. She rubbed her ass against his crotch.

No matter how many subtle hints or obvious offers she made, he always meticulously restrained himself. And yet this situation and her closeness were too much for Anders. Lyra leaned into him and moved up and down just a little, she could feel his growing erection against her lower back. Anders took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. _Oh fuck, this is it, I’m only a man... how can I walk away from her now?_

The moment she stepped into his clinic years ago, he knew Lyra Hawke would endanger his chosen solitude; after merging with Justice, Anders completely blocked this once important part of his life. It pained him but there was no other way; he simply couldn't be in a relationship and fulfill their agenda at the same time. Justice took his personal life as well as any other amusement and the mage accepted such cost.

But Lyra successfully knocked down all the walls he so carefully built. Her sarcastic sense of humor, rude bluntness in the face of authority (except her mother), her pranks and jests in the most inappropriate situations… she helped without a second thought and her ferocious fighting skills were becoming legendary.

The first time they fought together against the Flint Mercenary Company he had almost let himself get killed because of that splendid combat of hers, having casted mind blast at the last possible second, otherwise his skull would have been cracked open by a bloody heavy warhammer.

As if hers astonishing personality wasn't tempting enough, Lyra Hawke was hot. Breathtakingly hot. Relatively small, but well formed and lithe; as a highly skilled rogue she moved with such catlike grace he could watch her for hours. Long, jet-black hair, usually tamed with a leather strap in the back; too many times he longed to untie it and run his fingers in those lustrous waves. Lyra’s lively green eyes with just a hint of gold and her full, fairly red lips always competed for his attention. Anders simply couldn't decide which were more dangerous to him. And now the temptress was pressing her perfectly formed ass against his quickly building erection.

"Hawke, what the hell are you doing?" He moaned in despair, somewhat relaxing his solid stance.

"Just making some moves you don't know yet, and I can feel them working already." She smiled, pleased with herself.

"Lyra, please…. stop this… for your own sake," he begged, clearly in his last attempt to resist the urge to take her right now against this door.

It was the first time Anders called her by name and it sounded like divine music in her head, silencing every other thought. Only _HE_ remained - the gorgeous man who was driving her crazy. She ached to feel him inside her, in the very place he rightly belonged. Lyra moaned his name and that seemed to be the last straw. Anders finally surrendered.

"This will be a disaster, but I honestly can't live without you anymore…" he groaned in her ear and started to kiss her neck passionately; Lyra knew there would be marks afterwards. Anders' hands roamed her body with zeal, he needed to feel every single curve, as he had spent years only appreciating them from afar. He deftly untied the simple dark red tunic, yanked her breastband down and took both her breasts in his delicate, long-fingered hands. Circling her sensitive, pink nipples, he let out a lustful moan which immediately sent shivers down to her core.

Lyra reached behind her and stroked his cock through his well-worn leather pants, unlaced the ties holding them and was pleasantly surprised by the lack of underwear. Those breeches she gave him the other day were clearly a waste. His hard cock sprang into her palm and very suddenly Anders turned her to face him, lifted her up and pushed her against the door. She wrapped her legs around him, and all she could think of was her wet pussy in desperate need of him. The emptiness physically hurt, all the anticipation driving her crazy.

"Anders, please… I need you." Lyra managed to mumble between laboured breaths as he kissed and sucked the oversensitive pulse point below her ear. He looked up and into her eyes for the first time since they started, a cocky grin curling his mouth.

"Kitten, shouldn't we kiss first?" not really expecting her to answer, Anders merged his lips with hers, ensuring she wouldn’t ever forget their very first kiss;he wouldn’t, for sure. Lyra tasted like blueberries with cream and honey, rich strong wine, a warm and heavily scented summer night. He deepened the kiss, savoring every second, running his tongue along the outlines of her upper lip, sucking hungrily on the lower one, meeting her own tongue half the way, letting her taste and discover as she desired. Yet, even such a kiss couldn’t sate their greed, the lovers hungered for more.    

Anders didn't even bother with taking down Lyra’s smalls, he pushed them aside so he could slip a finger inside her. The rogue arched her back in a desperate effort to feel him deeper. He found the sweet spot inside her with ease, drawing tiny teasing circles around it, Lyra squirmed and moaned like a bitch in heat. _His_ bitch. He smiled, and without remorse withdrew his skilled finger but before she could voice her frustration, Anders thrust into her without warning, gasping at the marvelous sensation. She was so wet, so hot and tight and it felt like nothing else.

"Lyra, I'm sorry I won't last long…" he gritted his teeth in a desperate attempt to postpone his already building orgasm.

"Oh, do shut up and fuck me already, it's way past time you did!" She breathed out in a husky voice quite unlike her usual bright tone. Anders silenced her with yet another passionate kiss and began thrusting into her with earnest, causing her back to bruise from the hardwood door yet Lyra couldn’t care less.

The only thing that mattered was right in front of her, wrapped in her arms, pounding into her core, melting in her mouth, holding her aloft with such power and passion she was unable to form a coherent thought. Anders rubbed her clit deftly and let a small spark of electricity slip between his fingers. The orgasm took Lyra by surprise, such a strong wave of bliss erupted deep within her, starting in the spot of their joining and flooding her mind. As she began to tighten around him Anders came, hitting the door hard with a clenched fist.

They stayed still for a while, breathing heavily, their hearts slowly returning to a normal rate. With touching care Anders let Lyra down. Her knees buckled, so he took his gorgeous, spent rogue into his arms and carried her, as gently as a porcelain doll, to bed.

As the fog of passion slowly lifted, the painful reality hit Lyra and she whined: "What about Beth?"

Anders was completely occupied with ruffling her hair while leaving feather-light kisses on the shoulder beneath.

"I'm sure she's safe, Kitten. Cullen promised to keep an eye on her, and as much as I hate the blighted son of a bitch, I know he keeps his word. You can ask him tomorrow in the Gallows.”

Lyra nodded, feeling calmed and reassured. Yet, Anders needed a confirmation. “Now, can I trust you won't go wreaking havoc on the templars tonight? Don't get me wrong, under other circumstances I'm your man, but I need you alive for my own selfish reasons."

Lyra made her puppy eyes: "Can't promise I won't. You'll probably need to watch me all night."

Anders grinned and raised an eyebrow, a typical gesture of his, undoubtedly very well knowing the effect it had on a woman. "Like I was going anywhere, Kitten. I have some moves to show you, myself."

 


	2. Getting Ready for the Grand Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra Hawke has to go dancing. Of course she doesn´t want to. Anders steps in ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Lyra Hawke slammed the heavy front door to her grand estate, and collapsed on a bench just behind it. Another brilliant afternoon beating, stabbing and kicking bands of bloody ingenious raiders on the Wounded Coast. She didn't mind helping Aveline to secure order in Kirkwall from time to time, but over the last month it seemed the City Guard had just one capable fighter - the fabulous noble Lyra Hawke. This was the time to fully appreciate Anders awesome healing and rejuvenating skills. Her mind wandered to the gorgeous mage, who left her bed just this morning after their first night together.

She sighted, stood up and dragged herself in the hall to warm up by the fireside. Bodahn rushed to her offering to help with armor cleaning, but she just waved him off, quickly unfastening every buckle, shook it off and stepped outside the armor pile around her feet. She stretched, her sweaty undershirt pulled up revealing a piece of black satin smalls.

"Mother's at home?" she asked the accommodating dwarf merchant.

"Of course I'm home honey and I need to speak with you about this ball invitation…." She beamed at her gracefully walking down the stairs. Just her raised eyebrow indicated her opinion about Lyra's appearance.

"Can't it wait, please?" Lyra was getting pretty much fed up with those tedious social events her mother insisted she attend. She gave it a try half an year ago, but the banquet proved to be a disaster, as Varric so maliciously predicted.

“Last I've looked, I had a sweet noble born daughter who was very well aware of her responsibilities towards her house.“

“Then I must have a much better looking twin sister hidden in your room.“ Lyra sighed with her usual, now somewhat bitter smirk. Glancing up in her mother's face, she headed towards the master's bedroom, stopped just outside the door and called: “Fine, I'll go. As long as I'm not required to actually charm someone.“

“Your gown is on the bed and I'll meet you there at precisely eight pm. I'm going to visit Lady Tramayne, so be good girl and don't set the house at fire. I can almost see the anger sparks flying from you, darling.“

Lyra smacked the door to her bedroom and headed towards her wardrobe, where she kept a bottle of fine Antivan brandy for such acute emergencies. Pouring a generous amount of the rich golden drink, she looked over to her bed, her green eyes narrowing as she spotted the grotesque black and pink fluffy gown her mother had prepared for her.

Then she jumped and spilled almost the whole drink down her undershirt, when a honeyed voice whispered just in her ear. “I know, Kitten, that this dress is made of far more fabric than any sensible person would bestow on your divine body, but that's no reason for wasting such a fine drink.“

“Will you go with me, pretty please?“ She leaned into him and begun to sway her hips a little. “We could dance and I might do some unspeakable mischiefs to you back in the coatroom.“ She smiled to herself as suddenly the prospect of this evening was getting much more interesting.

“Kitten, I would love to dance and fuck you in the coatroom, but you know I can't go. You need some noble born brat, who is carrying a staff in his pants only. But we can dance and fuck here if you want to? You do have a coatroom, don't you?“ Anders started humming a soft tune and turned her around, powerful arms holding her hips.

With a tremendous effort Lyra pulled away, turned her back to him and hissed. “You're just making excuses, Anders. Do not touch me, I need to get ready for some noble born brat to entertain there.“ Deep down she knew Anders was right, but she was so tired and miserable about this social charade, she had to vent her anger on someone.

Anders smiled to himself. She was so stubborn and cute in her rants. Of course he could wait for tomorrow, when she'll come with some pathetic pretense to make out with him, but for now he chose a different strategy. “Fine, I won't touch you“ he responded, but stepped right behind her, holding his hand just an inch from her lower back. He summoned his mana and let some light warm vibrations sizzle under his hand sending it towards her skin.

Lyra froze on the spot, shivers running along her spine, her pulse quickening. Anders moved his other hand along her side, up to her neck and to the front, slowly heading towards those perfect perky breasts. He circled over her hardened nipples, clearly visible through the light fabric sodden with brandy. Lyra moved towards his hand, she longed for his touch, but now was his time to be stubborn, so he meticulously kept her ban on touching, his hands roaming just inches over her body, feeling her growing need for release.

He stepped in front of her and knelt, his mouth in level with her breasts, he let his warm breath dance over them and was pleased to see goosebumps appearing on her skin. A desperate moan parted her soft full lips. He moved his left hand behind her, holding it near her ass, while slowly tracing a tingling energy line down across her lower belly to those delicate smalls hiding under her light shirt. She bucked her hips towards his hand, finally breaking her pretended composure.

Anders circled above her clit, carefully controlling the power of his spell and then he sent a few stronger waves to her core. She arched her back, those lustrous jet black locks breaking the touching ban and grazing the teasing hand near her ass.

He knew she was utterly at his mercy, her orgasm ready to leave her screaming his name. It took every bit of restraint he could muster, a painful erection pulsing in his now extremely tight breeches.

“So I think I've prepared you really well for any noble brat keeping you company this evening.“ A playful smirk danced across his lips.

Lyra's senses were clearly fogged as she hoarsely whispered. “I... eh what?!“ one deep breath and she found her wits. “Don't you dare stop this now, you mage brat!“

“As my lady commands.“ and with those words Anders sent one last impulse into her core, and Lyra went over the edge, trembling and breathing hard. He scooped her from the floor, crossed the distance towards her bed and gently lowered her in it. She tried to reach him, but he was already at the door. “Enjoy your evening, Kitten. I'm heading to the clinic, Isabela needs some healing balm for her overused parts.“

Lyra closed her eyes, snuggled in the ridiculous dress and almost instantly fall asleep.


	3. The Grand Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What started as one shot smut is now snowballing into an actual story. So there will be more. Anders' Kittens are totally to blame ;)  
> Note: The story takes place during the Act 2 (Leandra is still alive), but Anders already wears his black feathered robes (a mod plus I like it a lot), so when Lyra is decorating her hair with black feathers, it is clearly an act of devotion :)  
> Warning NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack:  
> She's Got The Look - Roxette

A while later after leaving Lyra utterly spent on her bed, Anders stopped before the double door to his clinic, listening to raised voices inside. His cautious stance relaxed the moment he recognized Varric's unmistakable baritone.

“So can I count on you, Rivaini? Aveline is a public person, Broody has too much lyrium in his skin and his ears are too pointy for this kind of bullshity event, same goes for Daisy. Choir-Boy is pretty useless when it comes to deception and has such shiny eyes, they would reveal him in the darkest corner. As significant and dashing as my persona and reputation goes, I'm still too short for these pretentious noble pricks. Clearly someone has to cover and calm down Blondie and his icy blue friend.“

Isabela ran her hands along those prominent hips, sighted and gave Varric a bitter nod. “Fine, just see that my tab is on you for the whole month.“ And with that she walked past Anders. “Don't you need the healing balm for your, ahh lets call them delicate parts, shall we?“ He called after her. “I've already taken three, but thanks for you concern, Anders. You might need a few for Hawke from what I've heard. Wrap it together with some satin straps and scented oil for more dashing effect.“

“Just close the door behind you Isabella.“ He turned towards Varric. “So care to fill me in? Or should I go only as Bella's whipping boy?“

Varric chuckled. “As you probably already know, Hawke is going to attend the Grand ball at the Bravossi mansion. This event is supposed to be “nonpolitical“ but I would put a bet on Meredith kissing Orsino first. To the point – this morning I've received from a reliable source, that the Lucrati family, huge pro Templars idiots, are planning to punish Hawke for her, one might say, blind love towards mages and apostates in particular. Hawke now has to attend, it would raise suspicion otherwise. And that's when you and Rivaini come in the picture. You'll infiltrate the noble herd and protect Hawke from these highborn bastards. You just need to let her get seen and mingled a bit and with the first indication of daggers in the air, get the hell out. We're treading on thin ice here, they're too powerful to be revealed and brought before justice, well I should probably say before law. It is crystal clear Blondie, what you two would do with them, given the chance. And I'm not sure we should tell Hawke beforehand, she might stab the first dancing partner, just for good measure. Silver for your thoughts?“

“I'm in. So at half past seven in the usual meeting place?“ Anders walked towards his washbasin, stripped to his breeches and began to wash himself.

“Good thinking Blondie, you need to shine like a freshly delivered baby. But do left your dashing robes in some well sealed box in sewers, I've something more presentable for you here. No need to thank me, consider it an early wedding gift.“

..........................................

Lyra woke up with a start, something was trickling on her nose. “Maker, Dog get a napkin!“ Standing up she remembered the bloody ball and eyed the ridiculously frilly black and bright pink gown, her mother prepared for her. “Care to lend me one of your blankets Dog? It would certainly be more appropriate for such evening.“ The mabari barked, sending another saliva shower towards her and the precious pile of lace. “Fine, keep it, my drooling friend.“

She turned on the spot and gathered her finest tiny daggers and the sewing basket. Half an hour later she was finally happy with the result. She washed herself in cold water, brushed her hair and braided it in an up do, stuffed three black feathers in it, no hidden message in them what so ever. She put clean silk smalls on and slipped into the altered gown. In a pair of light black satin slippers she stood and turned in front of a large wall mirror, looking over her work. She had cut all the pink fluff away, leaving just a simple black silk dress, then she removed the whole back piece and replaced it with pink lace, so her entire back down to her ass was clearly visible beneath. One more flash of her dagger and her left leg was exposed almost to the waist, the light silk rippling around it.

Her mind drifted away, recalling the devastating orgasm Anders gave her this afternoon. She moved her hand along the milky white thigh, desperately wishing it was his passionate touch. _Damn it, stop you smitten kitten!_ And with a deep sigh she left the estate.

**Bravossi mansion**

Anders walked to the splendid bar, because where else would Isabella stationed herself? She was sipping her brandy, looking peculiarly elegant and modest in simple black and white gown.

“What are you staring at, Anders?“ she smiled seductively.

“I'm just shocked that I can't see at least half of your magnificent bosom! Even your ass is hiding as if shy to be served before two or three lucky men this evening.“ Anders smirked and turned his gaze towards the main door, Lyra should enter any moment now.

“I know how to blend in you prick, and don't you worry about my ass, I've got no underwear so I can serve it easily. Might even go for Hawke, such sweet kitten needs extra care, don't you agree?“

“Shut it, she's here. I'm gonna shadow her, you keep checking the crowd.“ Anders didn't even wait for the answer and headed towards Lyra. He stopped a few feet from her, scanning the surroundings carefully. He meticulously shadowed her. She was moving from one distinguished noble to another, engaging in small talk, laughing politely to a number of really bad jokes. Her mother clearly wasn't happy with Lyra's gown, which was a mystery to him. He had to restrain himself firmly, otherwise he would drag his tongue over the pink lace on her lower back and plunge his hand into the slash in the front, searching for her hopefully non existed smalls. _Damn it, you need to focus, otherwise she might be killed before you can even touch her!_

The musicians began to play a soft slow song, and he simply couldn't allow some grabby noble brat to dance with her. So he quickly stepped before her and bowed, asking for her hand.

“May I have this dance Serah Hawke?“ He didn't wait for the answer and pulled her close, starting to dance. Pleased to feel her quickened breath and slightly trembling hand in his, Anders smiled happily.

“Aww…what are you doing here? I thought this wasn't the ‚kindly bring you apostate‘ sort of event.“ Lyra managed to say, much to her own surprise, because seeing him in a plain but very well fitted formal suit took her breath away.

“Change of plans, Kitten. Please don't be alarmed, but there might be an assassin concealed between these noble brats. And I think this dance will finally fulfill your social obligation and we can get the hell out of this viper's nest.“ Anders pulled her even closer and pressed her lower belly to his building erection. “I doubt I can hold till the end of this dance though, I wanna kiss you, lick you and fuck you into oblivion.“

Lyra gasped and moaned licking her lips, shivers racing towards her smalls. She made a mental note to sent flowers, chocolates and at least a dozen bottles from her wine cellar to this brilliant assassin. She snuggled closer into him, taking in his divine scent, their restrained needs merging, creating almost palpable sparkling tension between the two beautiful dancers.

Reluctantly Anders tore his gaze from Lyra's perfect lips, he almost moaned seeing her tongue slowly licking the lower one, and scanned their surroundings once more, recollecting the threat they were facing.

And just in that very moment a knife came flying out of nowhere. He managed to spin them aside and the blade buried itself deep in some nobleman's left butt cheek. He saw Isabella darting forward and then disappearing into quickly panicking crowd, obviously chasing after someone. Everyone started to scream or swear loudly, pushing and trying to escape the room. Anders felt Vengeance stirring and getting ready to take over, but he mustered every strength he could to calm down and locked the spirit inside at least for this moment. He grabbed Lyra's hand and they managed to sneak into a deserted corridor, Lyra seizing the opportunity and dragged Anders into the first unlocked door.

Once their breathing slowed a bit, Anders looked around the dimly lit room carefully.

“So Serah Hawke, your mission for the evening goes clearly well, this is the coatroom you had in mind?“ a smirk crossed his perfect lips.

“Eh well…. I… and…. you…“

“Clearly we need to work on your verbal skills, my lady.“ His sensual voice vibrated in her ear, soft lips almost touching her neck. He pulled on the ribbon holding her hair and ran his fingers in the freed locks lovingly.

“Shut up and kiss me you fool!“ Lyra grabbed on his shoulders, jumped and locked her legs around his hips. Anders wasted no time and assaulted her lips, his skilled tongue demanding access, meeting hers and deepening the kiss. Holding her buttocks firmly he crossed the distance towards a sofa, and sit down, settling Lyra comfortably in his lap. He took down each shoulder strap of her dress, kissing attentively every inch of skin underneath, slowly lowering the dress and exposing her breasts. He took each nipples in his mouth, sucked voluptuously on it, circled his tongue around and even bit just to sent shivers down to her lower belly.

“Anders, what if… ahh… somebody comes in?“ Lyra managed to breath out.

“Then they will see the chaste noble biting her lips not to scream, as I'm about to make her come so strongly, she won't ever forget it.“ And with that he lifted her above his lap, one hand wrapped around her ass, the other tracing a line up her thigh, reaching her already wet smalls, unceremoniously tearing them in half and inserting his middle finger in her without any warning. She gasped and grabbed his shoulders, Anders seizing the opportunity and attacking her closest nipple with his tongue. He begun to move his middle finger in and out of her. Smiling to himself at the memory of this very afternoon, when he made her come without actually touching her, he summoned the same energy and let it run over her clit once more. She gasped and arched her back, jet black hair cascading down to her ass, moving with her passionate motions.

He watched her beautiful face filled with desire and suddenly he couldn't hold a second longer. He needed to be inside her or lose his sanity. Releasing his erection smoothly, he grabbed her hips and forced her down, taking him fully inside. They both moaned hoarsely with the contact, Lyra feeling so wonderfully utterly filled, she didn't want to move, just savor all of his length in her.

Anders on the other hand desperately needed to pump into her, fuck her mercilessly. He wanted to be in control, so he carefully lifted both of them from the sofa, took a few steps and without pulling out of her, he seated her on the edge of some cupboard. It was in perfect height with his hips and he begun to pound into her wildly, both panting from the race towards orgasm. Lyra once again arched her back, trying to move her core closer to him.

A low growl parted his lips. “Touch your clit and come for me, Kitten.“ She did as asked, her middle finger rubbing over the sensitive nub and as Anders slammed into her one more time, she came, screaming his name, blind to the outside world. Three thrusts later, with the last wave of Lyra's, Anders got hit by his own orgasm and spilled himself in, whimpering “Lyra“ into the crook of her neck.

Ten minutes later the fine noble Lyra Hawke and her apostate left the Bravossi mansion through the backdoor, walking slowly, silly smiles on their faces.


	4. All That Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra Hawke is coping with her mother's violent death.  
> Song:  
> Vulnerable - Roxette

In the late afternoon Lyra Hawke was standing in front of her magnificent mansion in Hightown, staring at the family crest, looking disturbingly disheveled, dirty and drained of all her life energy. She just couldn’t go inside and face Gamlen, Bodahn and the rest of the staff, and tell them their beloved mistress Leandra will never return. The lovely house became an empty haunted place, it just wasn’t her home anymore. Tears welling in her eyes she shook her head in disbelief. Despite the slowly setting Sun gloriously reflecting on the white marble palatial buildings, she felt abandoned, her people dying one by one, leaving her in a dark colorless world, entirely responsible for the remaining ones.

First went her beloved father, who had a soft spot for his eldest kid, taking her along to discover every marvel in their little world. And she always found something fascinating on their travels, if only a colorful bug or a magnificent horse in someone else’s stables. He even arranged for her some riding lessons on local farmer’s ponies and later heavy draft horses, seeing how she loved the feeling of freedom, strength and speed of these wonderful beasts beneath her.

Then the Blight came on Ferelden and everything turned upside down. They were on the run and somehow she was the leader, supposed to get them to a safe place, where they could build a new life. But she failed and Carver was ripped in half by that disgusting ogre, leaving three struggling women behind. So they came here, shared their poor excuse of an uncle’s hovel for two dreadful years and when she finally secured a decent sum of money on a delightful Deep Roads expedition, Cullen took Bethany into the Gallows. She failed yet again, her little sis was left at the whims of paranoid Knight Commander Meredith and her Templars.

She was living with her mother ever since and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to please her, including going to the ball three days ago. And now Leandra Hawke was gone too, because her daughter was paying more attention to her love life than her mother’s safety. Lyra thought for a second about running into Gallows, provoking a fight with the Templars and either die or escape with her little sis. Oh Maker Bethany, if you knew the manner of mother’s death…

How could she tell Beth their mother’s suffering was entirely her fault? She had allowed herself to be completely occupied with Anders. Ever since he finally let his walls down and they began this thrilling ride, she was hardly aware of other people’s life, including her mother’s. If only she could go back…

She bit her lower lip hard, metallic taste of her own blood reviving numbed senses. The Hawke simply couldn’t be seen in public having a psychical breakdown. Although the only thing she truly wanted now, was to lie down on the smooth, cold stone beside the door and stay there at least over the night. Slowly she turned around, with shaky hands pulled the hood of her stained cloak lower to hide her bloodshot eyes, dodged a pair of merrily chatting nobles and headed to the only place, where she could hide from the world.

...................................

Anders was beside himself. He had to deliver this poor woman’s baby, she was always so good to him, bringing all food her family could spare, which wasn’t much really. So there he was, crouching between her scrawny legs, casting rejuvenate while slowly easing the baby’s head out. But all the while he wanted to bolt out the door and run to Lyra, hold her, kiss her, take care of his beloved.

And there was something else troubling his mind. The manner of Leandra’s death shook his beliefs and his hitherto attitude towards mage rights. It was one thing to let the fear for your own life take the better of you and become an abomination or summon a demon as a desperate measure, but this was so much more. The vicious magic involved in the monstrous crime made his skin crawl. The thought that such power lies in the reach of almost every mage made him physically sick, causing a strong urge to vomit. But with the screaming baby safe in its happy mother’s arms, he was already sprinting towards Hightown, leaving all this disturbing agenda behind, his only goal to kiss away Lyra’s tears.

He rushed in the estate panting from the long run only to find out, that nobody there knew, where Lyra was or even about Leandra’s tragic fate. As it was apparent the mission went wrong, he had no choice but to actually break the news to Gamlen and rest of the household. He didn’t stay to deal with their anger and sorrow, but left promptly for the Hanged Man, hoping that Varric would have some insights to help him find Lyra. His throat tightened with all those images his mind was swiftly serving before his eyes. Desperate Lyra wandering the Darktown unarmed and unaware of a vile rapist tailing her… Lyra sobbing in grabby arms of the damned shiny elf… and finally Lyra in a dark alley with a knife in her heart. Although Varric assured them that the Lucrati family gave up after the unsuccessful attempt on Lyra’s life during the Grand Ball and left for their chateau in Orlais a day ago. But he knew better than to stop worrying about her, ranks of her enemies were becoming more numerous every day.

.....................................

Anders burst into Varric’s spacious rooms a while later. The dwarf was about to make some sarcastic remark but thought better of it seeing the mage’s disturbed state. “Blondie, breathe out and spill!”

“She is not at home! Do you have any idea, where she might go?” Anders was practically screaming. “I should have stayed with her after we carried Leandra’s body out, but Tom begged me to help his wife as there was no midwife near the Darktown…so she was supposed to head home, I promised to join her later. What if something happens to her?” he practically hiccupped the last question.

Varric rubbed his broken nose. “Calm down Blondie, or else you gonna shed your pretty feathers. I’m sure she’s fine, I know it might seem differently from those lovesick puppy’s eyes of yours, but come on! This woman can kick an ogre into a crying ball of stinky hair and cut away from every dungeon. Speaking of dungeons, have you checked your clinic?”

Seeing Anders staggered look, Varric’s eyes twinkled and he stated with a large grin:” Or did you actually think she is sulking in the Vicount’s office drinking brandy with Senechal Bran? Honestly Blondie, I would let you touch Bianca if I’m wrong. But hold your horses I need to brief you about the leak in our midst. As we know someone has been passing valuable information about Hawke to the Lucrati family and possibly even Templars. And I’ve just found out who. It appears Choir-Boy can use some extra praying time to atone for his many sins. I’m pretty sure he regrets it already but unless you want to read about the Hawke position in next BRB – Blooming Rose Brochure, I strongly recommend caution when talking to the future king. He’s such a devoted Chantry worshiper. I’m not sure how that goes together with his burning passion for Hawke, but I’m no cleric to judge him. And now go, go, go hug our petite boss!”

The blond mage growled. “As if I would ever share anything with that religious prick. But thanks for the warning, next time I’ll see him, I’ll lift up his Andraste and send my best to his balls.”

........................................

Panting slightly after racing through crowded and noisy Lowtown and the familiar stinky Darktown to his clinic, Anders opened the door to his humble sanctuary and sighed with relief, as his amber eyes found Lyra’s disheveled long braid peeking out of his shabby blankets.

Standing above the cot he marveled at her long lashes slightly fluttering in dreamy sleep, a few smile lines in the outer corners of her eyes, the cute little nose and her inviting velvet soft lips parting slightly with her finally peaceful breathing.

He desperately wanted to protect her, to find a place where they could be just Lyra and Anders, two fools in love. There should be no need to struggle in this turbulent, ugly and dirty city, with it’s evil politic scheming. She deserved a world with no bullying Templars and superstitious Chantry in it. But most of all she deserved a whole man, not a spirit infected and tainted apostate, living on bread and water in this dump. But he just couldn’t let her go, even if he knew she would be better without him.

Anders slumped over, gently caressed her cheek and as she slowly woke up he smiled, kissing the tip of her adorable nose. “I’m taking you home, Kitten.”

Entering the estate, Anders was relieved to find out that Gamlen left an hour ago. Bodahn and Sandal were in their room, leaving just a young shy maid in charge. He asked her to draw a bath for Lyra and then they slowly climbed up the stairs, she was leaning heavily on his arm, her otherwise lively green eyes strangely vacant and unfocused.

Once in the master bedroom he helped her out of the battered and bloodstained armor, scooped her in his arms and carried her to the steaming bath. He settled on a bench behind the tub, untied her thick raven black hair and began to wash it with lavender shampoo. Running his slender fingers through her lustrous tresses, he hummed a soft tune, the one he remembered his mother sang, while sitting on his bed before night time.

Anders started to summon some healing energy, when Lyra spoke in a hoarse voice: “Don’t heal me, I need to go through this by myself. As it is my fault, I must bear the consequences of my reckless actions.”

“Lyra, how can you blame yourself?” Anders almost cried in disbelief. Then he took her calloused hand, placed a feather-light kiss on her knuckles and spoke softly: “No one could stop him in time, you can’t take the blame for every crime we failed to prevent. You’ve helped wherever you could but you’re not Andraste reborn… so please let me help you.” He gently rubbed her throbbing temples, while kissing the top of her stubborn head.

“But don’t you see? If I wasn’t so entirely smitten with you, and actually paid attention to people I’m supposed to protect, she could just now lovingly criticize my dirty fingernails or bad taste in jewelry …” Lyra’s voice broke, her chin quivered slightly with strangled sobs.

“And how can I be the famous and strong Lyra Hawke, if I’m such a weeping mess? How can I gain any influence to protect Bethany in the blighted Circle?”

Anders shook her shoulders lightly and firmly demanded. “Lyra look at me! These feelings only confirm your remarkable strength! There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for your loved ones, you’re a fierce and deeply caring woman and I’ll keep repeating this so long until you’ll finally acknowledged it. Come get some sleep, and in the morning light everything will look different.”

He wrapped her in a fluffy towel and carried to the bed as if she weighed nothing. She turned away from him, her shoulders slouched, she pulled a clean shift on and crawled under the covers. Anders watched her sadly, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly. “I’ll sleep in the hall, if that is alright, you just need to call out…” And he headed towards the door feeling utterly useless.

“Anders I’m sorry, please come here… stay with me… the last thing I wanna do is to push you away.” Lyra called to him and prayed that he was not upset with the lack of response to his loving care. A few long strides echoed on the fine wood floor, followed by the swift rustling of clothes being torn off, and then his warm, slender body pressed to her back, pulling her closer. A warm feeling flooded her chest as Anders wrapped his arm around it, snuggling his nose into the crook of her neck.

“I love you and I’ll always be here for you.” A soft whisper being the last thing she heard.


	5. Getting Back in the Saddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders comforts Lyra and ends up on a beach ;) somewhat nsfw-ish.... beach stuff will continue
> 
> The song for the Lyra in this chapter:  
> Dream - Priscilla Ahn

In the early morning Anders woke up to a terrible stench, which gave him a strong urge to vomit. He scanned the room in confusion, perplexed how it became that such a lovely bedroom could smell so disgusting. It took him only one second to discover Dog sitting near his head with an open mouth clearly containing some delicious half digested innards of a week-long dead pig. He groaned and hit the mabari over his nose, but Dog didn’t budge. The only one, who could give him orders and scold him, was fast asleep and he had to watch her closely.

The means to get rid of the typical Ferelden odor was quite pleasant actually, so Anders snuggled closer to his woman, buried the tip of his nose in her soft and lavender perfumed locks. Lyra stirred in her sleep. She began to mumble, knitted her brows, then suddenly she started to kick furiously under the blankets. Her hands shot up, one to the blocking position the other to deal some deadly blows. Her face mirrored the anger and pain that was controlling her entirely. Instinctively, Anders wrapped his arms and legs around her from behind, trying to calm her wild movements. His firm grip caused Lyra to leave her imaginary opponent and she started to fight him, kicking, punching, biting. She screamed at him unawares, shoving every possible insult and swear at him...

The light shirt she was wearing slowly pulled up. Anders being completely naked (he wore underwear only if it was particularly nippy) began to feel a little distracted, as their bodies crashed into each other, their limbs entwined, drops of sweat forming on his strained back and between Lyra’s breasts. All the time he whispered words of reassurance, he even hummed a tune trying to calm her down, but apparently to no effect. Then finally when he desperately kissed her glistening forehead, she broke and began to cry, shaking with sobs, calling for her lost mother, letting her grief out at last. He loosened his tight grip but continued to hold her, slowly rocking and muttering soothing words to his suffering love.

“Shh, my fierce Kitten, you’re safe here with me. Wake up please, let me take care of you.” Anders covered her beautiful face, now full of anguish, with light kisses, tasting the salt of her tears.

Lyra opened her eyes slowly, giving him a confused look. “I killed him but it was too late… she was just sitting there, mutilated, hurting, alone. And ever since I have this empty place inside me, it feels like a black hole, with red hot edges, leaving even the little bright spaces around it raw and burned. How can I fill it again?” She was staring in his soft amber eyes desperately searching for a cure for her sorrow. Then she moved into his embrace, reviving the closeness of their naked bodies, offering her lips to him. He let out a longing breath, gently tucking a stray lock behind her ear. “Lyra are you sure?”

She moved even closer, her breasts pressed almost painfully against his chest. “I need you like never before, make love to me.” She whispered just inches away from his lips, her breath dancing lightly over them. Anders melted into her, claiming the soft mouth opening invitingly for his tongue. They kissed hungrily, Lyra even bit his lower lip, Anders wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her so close it hurt slightly. She rolled over him, kissing his sensitive pulse point, then drove her hips hard against his pelvis and powerful erection. He hissed painfully.

“Anders what’s wrong?”

He smiled. “Well you kicked and punched me a lot in your sleep, while I was holding you…” Lyra looked a little confused. “I’m so sorry! But why didn’t you heal yourself?”

Anders kissed her gently. “I don’t want to, I treasure every bruise you give me.”

He rolled over her, his body weighed her marvelously down, she wanted nothing else than to be buried under this man, to feel him inside, to be overpowered entirely, a doll in his arms. Anders propped himself up a little, just to leave some maneuvering space between them. He began to caress her, his tender healer hand tracing a sensitive line from her ear, down along her neck, to her breasts, cupping one, while kissing lightly the other, licking and sucking her hardened nipples. He administered to her body so gently and carefully, like she could melt away in this very moment.

Lyra arched her back, bit her lips and moaned his name more urgently as he moved his hands and kisses lower. She tittered endearingly when he reached her belly, his freed hair tickling lightly over her stomach. He continued kissing, slowly getting closer to her craving sex, while lowering his hands to her knees, then dragging them up along her inner thighs until he reached her center. He painted three circles in her hair, then out of nowhere dipped his tongue between her folds, finding her clit with certainty. Anders licked and sucked on it hungrily, while inserting his middle finger in her pulsing wetness.

Lyra was shaking, every nerve raw and tingling, her breasts heaving up and down in labored breaths. She was racing toward her peak, but somehow it was out of reach tonight. “Anders… ah…please…don’t stop…” a husky voice pleading her case. He angled his finger slightly, and then added the second one, plunging in and out of her in steady rhythm. His tongued circled and danced around her clit, his lips tightened and he sucked on it voluptuously. Lyra buckled her hips in his face, her cheeks red, toes curled, she came in such intensity; her would be scream was noiseless, just her lips moving in a silent prayer, worshiping the man.

She hadn’t the chance to come back from her ecstasy, because Anders moved swiftly back over her, grabbed her legs rather roughly, sinking into her in one powerful motion, trying to get as deep as possible.

“ **I love you.** I would rather die, than to be parted. I need to be inside of you, every night for the rest of my life.” He cooed and began to move, pulled almost all the way out, then plunged forcefully back into her. “Oh fuck this is perfect, love…”

Lyra was in a haze, only a single thought and need clear and sure. She was his sanctuary, he belonged in her, fulfilling her entirely. She whimpered and pulled him down for a passionate kiss and as their tongues entwined they both came, Anders just a moment after her, both moaning their names into each other mouths…

They were laying in silence for about half an hour, Anders playing with her tousled hair, placing light kisses on the top of her head, drinking in the combined scent of lavender and Lyra’s own bittersweet mixture.

She stirred, flexed her limbs one by one and then sat up. Pulling the sweaty and disheveled shirt over her head, she sighed. “Oh Maker, I’m such a mess… I just need to know if it ever stops hurting so bad, I mean after father and Carver I thought that I can’t feel such pain anymore, that I became stronger.”

Anders stroked her back, tracing the line of her spine, sending tiny shivers along it. He leaned forward and tenderly kissed the back of her neck. “Time will help you love, but you can never fill it all again. It will just hurt less and less until it became a sad memory, living inside of you, a part of the memory mosaic of your family. So you just need to go on, take care of yourself and Bethany, because that was what she wanted the most. Her two admirable daughters being well and happy.” He cupped her cheek, wiped the last tears with his thumb and slowly breaking the hug he smirked a little. “And now I need to eat something, and kick Dog out of this room, he smells so delicious I might jump him.”

A tiny smile ran over her lips. “Oh come on, admit it, Dog smells way better than you! And about the food… Mother actually did all the cooking, she loved our new kitchen, we kept the maid only for cleaning and laundry. But if you want, I can cook for you alright.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but after the last venison stew you made on the road, we all agreed to add your cooking skills to the top deadly combats of our crew.” He eyed her thoughtfully, trying to analyze if she was ready for such light-headed talk, her watery eyes suggested otherwise. “Love, if you’re not comfortable with such talks…”

“No... it’s just that mother’s stew was so delicious and she always wanted to pass the recipe on me, but I didn’t care….so you don’t like my cooking? Well that’s too bad, I’ve been thinking about asking everyone for dinner, as long as you boys play nice and don’t fight over the juiciest piece of meat…”

“I thought the juiciest piece of meat is already mine, isn’t it?” Anders grinned boyishly and smiled at her. “Sorry love, I have so much work at the clinic, I really have to check on a few patients, would it be ok to leave you for few hours? I promise I'll be back for dinner to fight over you…”

She gave him a playful kick and hit him hard with a pillow. Anders covered his head theatrically. “Oh no, you ruined my hair! I need to run and ask Isabella to braid my ponytail again! She loves to do it, while I’m sitting between her legs…” He didn’t wait, scooped the pile of clothes beside the bed and ran for the door, pillows along with playful swears raining on his head.

"Anders, wait! Last night you told me, you love me! **I love you too, you idiot!** " Lyra was yelling after him, so loudly the half of the Hightown heard it for sure. There were hurried footsteps running up the stairs, and suddenly she found herself in his arms, buried in overjoyed kisses. "So mage, will you call me your girlfriend in public now?"

"Aren't you too old to be called a girl, love?" He couldn't resist the tease.

"Out! Now!" His love barked between giggles.

His happy smile vanished the moment he closed the bedroom door. An additional heavy weight settled on his shoulders, he wasn’t only a man in love with a gorgeous woman, now all his troubled existence hit him hard in the face. Apostate, Grey Warden in hiding, host to a vengeful spirit… _oh fuck it, make yourself busy, otherwise you’ll go mad, you fool!_

Fully dressed with a piece of cheese and a slice of bread in his hand he opened the front door and collided with a rogue in ridiculously shiny armor. In a fraction of second the food was flying in all directions and the blonde mage had pinned the surprised prince against the wall, delivering two swift, hard punches, successfully breaking his opponent’s noble nose.

“Anders, let go, are you crazy?”

“Definitely, but I can’t compete with you, you shitty traitor. Tell me, did you betray Hawke only for your own twisted god complex or was the Grand Cleric behind this all? Did you come here to finish her in person, now that your noble friends failed at the damned ball?”

“What? No! I came here to apologize…. I made a terrible mistake, I never meant to put her in danger, they tricked me and once I realized what they were planning I stopped giving them the information.” Sebastian Vael was breathing hard, blood dripping from his broken nose.

“So how come you didn’t warn her, heh?” Anders tightened his grip.

“But I did! I used a middleman to inform Varric about the planned assassination, so he could alert others. I just couldn’t confess to her, what I did…. She’s so true and loyal to her friends, I should give her the same courtesy despite the fact that I can hardly agree with her actions. And then the monster took her mother to the Maker’s side, so I’m here to make amends and offer my sympathy.”

“The bloody Fade you are! You think I would let you in just like that? She’s fragile, devastated, her judgment is clouded so she could even pardon you in this state. I won’t allow it. Go back to your prayers you noble asshole, there’s nothing for you here.” And with that Anders casted a binding spell on the locks to prevent anyone without a proper key to enter, then finally let go of the rogue prince.

Sebastian straightened up and scowled. “This isn’t over Anders, you have no right to act as her custodian, she will decide on her own. But I won’t press it now. May the Maker watch over her.” _I’ll sure watch over you mage._

……………………………………………..

Anders spent a busy afternoon in his clinic and around Darktown tending to his patients to the best of his ability. He healed their wounds, mixed herbs and salves for them, but that could only take them so far. With the ever present dampness, foul air from the sewers and practically nonexistent sunshine, Darktown was a kingdom of diseases. Plus, there wasn’t a single person with full belly and clean water to drink. Often he spent a sleepless night, devastated by the loss of an underfed child to a common illness.

And of course there were the women, who couldn’t feed another hungry mouth growing in their belly. He prepared a number of moon teas to prevent the unwanted conceptions, but they often forgot to drink it in time, being busy with everyday struggle to make it through the day. Some of these women would gladly give up on intercourse, but their husbands usually forced them. And the unmarried and widows often spread their legs for everyone, who has a copper to spare. If they were so lucky to get paid at all, rapes in dark corners were their daily bread. Then they came to him (two cases only this afternoon) and he had to do the unspeakable. If he didn’t help, they would end up in some charlatan’s hands and probably bled out in a side alley on their way home.

After their first night, he was tremendously relieved to find out that Lyra was drinking the tea already. Apparently Isabella shared her large reserve, which he alone regularly dumped on her head in advance. He was so eager to finally be with Lyra, he didn’t give a second thought to this side of their joining. Now he realized that would the situation be different, he would even want a family with her. His heart tightened and a painful sigh escaped his lips. There would be no family for him, not with Justice, not if he was hunted by Templars and the Grey Wardens at the same time. Being a mage, it was a given he would live his life alone, without a proper home, wife or children and he accepted that a long time ago. Yet now with Lyra by his side he cursed his fate and longed for more. _Hush silly, just love her and you’ll see, maybe there’s a way…_

…………………………………………….

Lyra Hawke was restless. After Anders left she couldn’t breathe within the empty walls, the estate still full of her mother’s essence. She needed to get in the open, feel wind in her hair, sun on her face, she needed to run outside and clear her head. _Wind! Yes!_

Lyra slipped into her leathers and sheathed a small dagger just in case. She tore a page from her notebook and scribbled a note. A whistle in Dog’s direction and they trotted out the main door.

……………………………………………….

Once all the urgent patients were taken care of, he put out the red lanterns, shut the door and walked hastily through Darktown into the light. On his way he spotted a lovely little front garden in front of a Hightown mansion, carefully checked the surroundings and then plucked off three red roses along with some lavender. Of course he pierced two fingers, but the beautiful scent coming from the bouquet was worth it.

Anders arrived in Lyra’s estate only to find it empty; Bodahn and Sandal were on a business trip, the maid was gone too. But he scarcely noticed their absence, all he cared for was their mistress and she clearly vanished with Dog. _Shit, not again!_

Scanning the bedroom he noticed her light leathers missing, along with her favorite dragon bone dagger. Thankfully there was a note on the bed.

_Anders,_

_I’m going to the beach, I need fresh air. I’m taking Dog along, so don’t you worry. I’ll be home for dinner. That is, if you actually make some. Kiss._

_Lyra_

Anders sighed. In a different situation he wouldn’t get worried and just wait for her. She was the Hawke for fucks sake, beautiful and deadly. He would maybe even cook dinner, but with the assassination attempt and Vael possibly shadowing her, he had to make sure she was safe.

The Sun was slowly setting, turning the sky to the west various shades of red and pink, the bright colors mirroring in the calmly murmuring sea. Seagulls were screaming in the distance, and there were two black specks far away from him, moving surprisingly quickly, growing bigger every moment. Anders smiled, sure one of the specks belonged to him.

Kirkwall’s Hightown was no place to keep horses, so there were large stables built not far from the city, providing horses, carriages and wains for travels. Nobles were keeping their own horses, mainly for hunting. The Viscount also hosted a few traditional races through the year, Lyra always taking part in these frivolous events.

Anders watched her adoringly as she galloped in full speed along the tide line, hair waving behind her, the setting Sun ringed her with warm gold light. Dog was in thrilled pursuit, but he was losing in the distance fast, there was no competition with Lyra’s strong red warm-blooded stallion. She bought him half a year ago for a ridiculously overpriced sum of gold (at least in Anders’ opinion and Leandre wasn’t exactly thrilled either), named him Red Wind and spent every free afternoon in his saddle. Anders wasn’t a horse lover himself, but watching Lyra, he had to admit the beast was a beauty and together with her they looked magnificent.

Lyra pulled on the reins, slowed to a spirited trot and then halted before him, breathless, her cheeks flushed, lively sparks in her bright green eyes, tousled black hair running down her back.

“Are you better, love?” The concern in his voice warmed Lyra’s heart and she nodded, in urge to please her lover. Her guilt, pain and sorrow still filling her up, yet somehow she did feel better. Water, wind and warmth. She wanted to celebrate life, no matter the bucket of misery it had dumped on her head.

Anders waited patiently, he couldn’t offer a remedy or a spell to heal her soul, the only way to help his love was to stand by her side, when she faced her grief.

Lyra slipped down from the saddle, snuggled into his chest and whispered. “Can we stay here for a while? I want to feel warm and alive now.”

Anders could do nothing else, but to kiss her.


	6. Salt, Blood and Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW ;)  
> I have to thank TurboNerd for awesome editing and SiryaEbonyBlack for everything she does for me:)

 

Far in the west the slowly setting Sun was touching the sea, turning the water into a blood- red, an occasional bird dives down and breaks the glittering surface. A beautiful red horse was tethered near a large grey rock pawing the warm sand with its front hoof once in a while. A huge mabari was pacing vigilantly around a large perimeter, the most reliable patrol a man could wish for.

A blonde man was sitting against the rock, leaning back, his eyes closed and lips parted so to let out deep ragged breaths and a muffled whimper every other minute. His worn, soft leather pants were pulled down from his hips, with an opened grey shirt they revealed a well-defined body, maybe in need of a few meals and some sunshine. His fingers were tightly entwined in long jet-black tresses of a slender woman crouching between his legs.

Her skilled tongue was slowly licking his magnificent cock from base to the tip when she took him fully in her mouth and began to suck while cupping his retracting balls. The man growled, roughly pulled her up to devour those red lips before they could guide him to orgasm.

Lyra giggled and raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “You’re robbing me of a delicious meal, mage!”

“I just want the dish to be served right…” He hugged her close and rolled onto her, almost crushing her ribs in the process. Anders kissed both of her small hands and lifted them above her head, holding them together. Lyra felt a weird yet not unpleasant sensation circling her wrists and suddenly she couldn’t move them at all.

“Oh, you’re an evil man, I wanna touch you!”

“Shh, stop complaining, or I will leave you here like this for the first dirty fisherman.” He grinned, quickly untied the laces of her tight bodice, lovingly cupping her perky breasts, just the perfect size to fit in his hands. She arched her back, lifting her hips to drive them hard against his erection. He pushed them back in the sand immediately, freed the laces of her pants and yanked them down along with her delicate smalls, leaving her center exposed to his expert touch. Anders ran his hand along her core, sliding one finger inside, humming contently to find her so sweetly wet. A light tingly impulse escaped his fingertips and Lyra gasped, the sensation sent her soaring high to the darkening sky above.

He weighed her down with his whole body once more, rubbing his cock between her legs, teasing her entrance. “Wanna play, or fuck?”

Lyra whimpered, trying desperately to free her hands, she needed to touch him badly, but the attempt was in vain… “Fuck….right now.”

“But that’s not how a good girl would ask, is it?”

Anders held her hips to the ground, propping himself on his left forearm while his right hand roamed her body letting magic flow along its path in teasing waves. When he reached her nipple and took it in his mouth eagerly she begged with a hoarse voice, “Oh man, please fuck me…hard…. now. I beg of you!”

He teased her soft folds a little more, then locked his amber eyes in her green ones and sank slowly inch by inch in her inviting heat. Once he was fully sheathed, both of them exhaled in satisfaction, savoring this precious moment of intimacy. He gently pushed away a lock of stray hair from her forehead, kissing it lovingly, caressing her flushed cheek gently.

A sad smile crossed his lips, suddenly all the bravado vaporized from his face, and he broke their eye contact.

“I so don’t want to hurt you, but I’m terrified that I will in the end.”

Lyra, suddenly able to move her hands again, placed both palms along his solemn face and gently forced him to look up in her eyes again. “Anders, I love you, but I know you’re devoted to a higher cause… I just ask you to be always true with me. That’s all. Promise?”

He searched her eyes for any sign of doubt or pity, but he found only love and devotion reflecting in their green depths. “I promise, my love.” and with that he merged his lips with hers, determined to never ever let her go. Justice protested in the back of his mind. This new priority collided strongly with the spirit’s single purpose, but Anders paid no notice, being completely occupied with making love to his woman.

……………………………………..

“Well, I have sand in places no one should, so I’m going for a swim. Wanna join me?” Lyra chimed happily after coming back from her bliss, laying in his arms, her head resting in the crook of his neck, feeling his heart pulsing.

“Nah, it’s way too cold, and there’s slimy greenish stuff in some places. Plus I want your scent on me as long as possible. But I will be watching you closely, don’t worry, love.”

Lyra dived in the refreshingly cool water, splashing around loudly, enjoying this moment of carefree liberty. After a while she stood up, tiny waves tingling pleasantly around her waist, her bare breasts crowned with hard nipples teasing Anders mercilessly. A loud bark from Dog echoed along the golden beach announcing travelers on nearby road. Anders sighed and winced from pain as he tried to stuff his fast building erection in his leather pants. Lyra ran to him, giggling endearingly and pulled him down in a very wet hug. Anders hugged her even tighter, and kissed the top of her head, ignoring the danger to his so far dry clothes…

They left the beach hand in hand just in time before the sun set, feeling satisfied, pleasantly tired and sticky with salt and sand. Lyra returned Red Wind to the stables and headed towards the estate. Anders made sure she was safely snuggled in bed, gave her a good night kiss (not the chaste child-like variety for sure) and then it was straight back to the clinic. A distraught apostate was waiting for him, bearing unbelievably ill tidings.

Ser Otto Alrik was apparently on the loose, abusing the Rite of Tranquility in a highly revolting manner. Not only did he perform it for the slightest missteps on mages who already passed their Harrowing, but he uses the Tranquil female mages for his violent sexual satisfaction. Once a mage was raped and used for a while, he would choose a fresh, unspoiled one, leaving the former to a group of his cronies.

Meredith, along with Cullen, were either closing their eyes or completely unaware. He couldn’t decide what was worse. To allow those crimes to go on unpunished, or to be such an incompetent command, not knowing what was happening under your very nose. Furthermore, the Templar was overheard discussing something he called a Tranquil Solution with one of his followers. Anders didn’t need much imagination to understand its horrid essence.

Justice was livid and wanted to storm the Gallows right there. It took all Anders’ strength and willpower to calm him down and let his fellow mage to elaborate further, offering a possible way to stop this madness and gain evidence against the Templar monster.

Left alone after gathering crucial information he needed, Anders sank on his pathetic excuse for a bed as a powerful mixture of emotions consumed his mind. Such grief, anger and determination gripped his heart and ran through his guts, he shot up and rushed to a bucket in the corner and retched violently into it. Once the urge to vomit and the uncontrollable shivers racking his body subsided, he tried to assess the dangerous task afore him.

There was no doubt he would need to involve Lyra and at least two others from their crew, a warrior would be crucial against heavily armored Templars. He could only hope for Aveline and Varric or Isabella. It would be wise to leave Fenris and Vael out of this, although seeing such an abuse of power might even shake their belief in the “rightful” oppression of mages. Merrill presented no threat to his cause but he hated how recklessly she used blood magic and her connection to the Fade. Besides, they were going to fight highly ranked Templars, so rogues would be much more effective than weakened mages.

He was too exhausted even for a walk back to the estate, so he decided to crash here. Chewing a week old slice of bread and a shriveled apple he laid down and covered himself with his dreadful, almost antique blanket. A bitter smile curled his lips. _You’re already used to all the feather pillows in Lyra’s comfy bed, you fool!_

_…………………………………………………….._

Lyra woke up to Dog’s loud and rhythmic barking, which was always announcing a known visitor. It was an early morning, but usually she would be at least one hour up already, stretching, warming up and preparing for daily tasks. The trip to the beach clearly relaxed her a little too much. Not bothering with changing Anders’ worn shirt (she took it from him under a false pretense of cleaning it) she tried to straighten her disheveled morning hair along the way towards the main door, successfully making it a few degrees worse than it was before.

In front of Hawke’s fine estate, Sebastian Vael was nervously shifting his weight from one leg to another, waiting anxiously for the woman of his dreams.

He betrayed her trust, his feeble excuse to his conscience being her complete lack of reasonable judgement when it came to her precious mage. No one could change his opinion about Anders – he was an apostate possessed with a dangerous spirit, along with Merrill he rightfully belonged to the Circle, and that was it. But still, he shouldn’t endanger Lyra by sharing valuable inside information with anyone outside their group. He should accept her leadership, no matter his personal view on the matter.

It is likely this could be the last time he would see her. Suddenly he panicked for not bringing any flowers or her favorite brandy to show her his affection. The door opened and there she was, clearly just got up from the bed, every single gorgeous curve visible in the big thin male undershirt. Sebastian noticed the missing breastband, and swallowed hard. Both of her freed breasts moving accordingly with her body, the light fabric doing a poor job on hiding the pointy dark pink nipples resulted in a hurtful tension in his breeches. _Oh Maker give me strength!_

“So did you come here to pray or are you selling hideous belt buckles?” A playful smirk crossed her lips, but her bright eyes remained cold and wary. “Come in, we need to talk in private.”

Sebastian followed her inside, passing the threateningly growling Dog in a wide arc. Lyra stopped abruptly before the fireplace, her stance rigid, hands on her waist, breast heaving with feebly suppressed rage.

Suddenly the “battle Hawke” sprung into action. “What the hell Vael, you betrayed me to those pathetic pricks! And you were trying to gain over Fenris to hand in Anders and Merrill…. I’ve helped you over and over again, treated you with nothing but kindness and respect and this is how you repay me? I… I think we are done… you know were the door is.”

She turned her back on him quickly to hide the humiliating tears. This was supposed to be easy. The only appropriate reaction to the knife between shoulder blades was to burn the bridges. Some – Bella for one - would even go as far as seeking vengeance. Not to mention Anders’ flaming hatred for Sebastian. _So why does it hurt so badly and why does she have to fight so damn hard not to give him another chance?_

“Hawke… there’s no excuse for my behavior… but believe me I would never turn traitor again. I can’t reverse my despicable actions, just try to atone for them.”

A shaky voice answered after a while of tense silence. “And what about Anders and Merrill? Will you leave them alone?”

“I will, they’re your responsibility from now on, you clearly trust them and I won’t alert anyone about their existence. Will I stay in your good graces then? I will serve you devotedly, Maker be my witness.” And with that Sebastian Vael got to one knee, laying his bow to her feet ceremoniously.

Lyra turned around and burst into a freeing laughing fit. “Oh fuck…stand… up… you…foolish…dashing… baby!” she managed to hiccup. The moment she pulled him into a tight friendly embrace, Sebastian felt a strong urge to kiss her, the closeness and her intoxicating smell overwhelming his senses. He let his guard down and buried his nose in her tangled hair, breathing in the lavender shampoo and her own typical sweet scent. He ran his fingers feather lightly along her spine.

For such sinful act Maker punished him the very next moment. He was wrenched away from Lyra, a strong arm circled his throat from behind, crushing his Adam’s apple, closing his airways. A second of shocked hesitation then his fighting mode kicked in. He elbowed Anders hard in the stomach and escaped deftly from his grip. Anders advanced on him, making some well aimed kicks and hard punches, but never actually reaching for his magic. Sebastian was forced to fight back, he broke Anders’ nose in return and twisted two fingers so they snapped in the knuckles. Anders furious scream reverberated through the room, making Lyra stupefied and standing in shock. Once Sebastian shook Anders off and gained a little space, having no desire to fight the mage, he took up a defensive stance and waited for another assault. But there was suddenly a change in atmosphere, a strange force filled the space around them.

“Anders warned you not to come near Hawke, and here you’re, clinging to her in a pretentious act of devotion. It’s way passed the time you leave Kirkwall and never come back, you’re interfering with our cause and that is not acceptable.” Justice’s booming voice filled the hall, bounced from the walls and echoed into the night through the open window. Anders was glowing in icy blue light, emitting waves of powerful hostile magic.

“Anders, don’t do this! Don’t let him take over! I forgave him, we’re safe, and he won’t endanger us anymore… please love…!” Lyra’s knees gave up and she sank to the hard and cold marble floor, sobbing and shaking violently with fear for her beloved man.

A completely different kind of magic suddenly overpowered Justice, leaving a faint warm glow in their immediate space. The mage staggered forward to be caught in the last second before hitting the floor. Sebastian maneuvered him firmly into the chair in front of Lyra’s writing desk, quickly retracting his hands as if Anders was highly contagious.

Lyra finally unfroze, ran to him a took his haggard face with closed eyes in her shaking hands, moving her thumbs along his cheekbones, kissing glistening forehead. Anders was breathing laboriously, his skin paper white with clearly visible pulsing veins. Lyra sat on his lap, pulling his upper body into a tight hug. He rested his head on the offered shoulder and made a couple of futile attempts to find his voice, then whispered barely audibly in her ear.

“I can’t control Justice anymore. This won’t work, you have to choose between us two, love. Vael or me.” Lyra exhaled deeply, and turned her head towards Sebastian.

She locked her eyes in the prince’s emerald ones, finding a mixture of sorrow, love and pity. Hawke voiced the inevitable. “Goodbye Sebastian, I wish you well.”

 

 

 

 


	7. Bruised Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins right after the Dissent quest in Act 2. I'm not describing the quest itself, just building upon its results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SiryaEbonyBlack for being such an amazing tutor  
> and my faithful beta/editor TurboNerd  
> Warning: NSFW, rough smut  
> The song: Demons - Imagine Dragons...

In the darkest corner of Kirkwall's Darktown (in fact, the darkest corner compared to every other in the Free Marches) a female warrior, a dwarf with broad chest and a ridiculously huge crossbow emerged from a hidden trapdoor leading from Circle's dungeons, followed by a dark haired female rogue, her two fine daggers covered in slowly drying blood.

The warrior, captain of the City guard, shot her a dark look full of misgiving, turned her back and was about to leave. After a few long strides she stopped, glanced over her heavily armored shoulder and nodded her head in a respectful gesture towards the rogue. 

"I may not approve of all your actions or chosen company, but I still stand beside you, Hawke. The Templar had it coming. Anders’ outburst is yours to deal with."

"I appreciate it, Aveline. Thanks for your help tonight."

The captain left promptly, her footsteps inconveniently loud in full plate boots. A sigh escaped from the rogue, she dropped her proud and confident stand, and collapsed on a nearby wooden barrel. Her skin ash white with feverish red blots, she began to clean her daggers in precise, automatic movements, her hands trembling in distress.  _ Anders, I fear for you... _

"Hawke, cheer up. I bet Blondie stopped glowing blue and is preparing a nice candlelit dinner for you right now. And you sit here, very much in the Broody's tortured style, working on a tremendous headache." The dwarf patted her on the back, maybe a little harder than necessary.

"Really, Varric? That's all you've got? Candlelit dinner? No swans, a bubble bath in one of the Hightown fountains or a threesome for a nameday gift?" A bitter smile moved the corner of Lyra’s mouth upwards, but it didn't make it to her sorrowful, bright green eyes.

"Those are excellent ideas, I may use them as romance fodder for my next book... but seriously, Hawke, I don't know if there is a way out of this mess. I'll kiss the Maker's ass if he helps us, but meanwhile we need to lay low. We killed several Templars and Blondie lost his shit. I suggest keeping this just to ourselves. I’m sure the captain won't talk. She has some loyal bones."

"I know, Varric. We have been through a lot, she's always there, ever watchful, trying to shield me from harm while I just run around leaving a mess for her to fix. It’s a bit annoying, actually."

"Sounds like a dream job to me... anyway, I promise to keep my large mouth shut. Especially in Broody's company, he would growl for days, and his former master's wine cellar wouldn't be enough to appease him. He might even pull Blondie's ponytail a bit. Or something else..."

Lyra's shoulders dropped even lower, every word Varric said in his light-yet-worried tone added to her misery. She hadn’t thought about the others; she might lose Fenris over this. He was already pretty clear about the whole freedom for mages business, regarding Anders as an abomination, reducing Justice to nothing but a vengeful demon. The two men bickered constantly, spreading tension in their once merry company.

She liked Fenris, actually admired him for his inner strength. After what he had been through it was a real wonder not every mage nearby had ended with their hearts ripped out of their chests. Although he remained loyal, Lyra’s supporting the mage dissent slowly estranged them, and she dreaded the day the line of their friendship would be crossed.  _ Why am I so often trapped in the middle? _

If only she were a farmer’s wife, having to kill nothing but fat chickens. But no, she got to be  _ the _ Hawke! The one person everyone could happily dump their shit on and she would solve it in a blink of eye. How did this happen? She had no idea. She should ask Fenris how to intimidate and growl properly. 

Lyra stopped her fruitless musing just in time to hear Varric’s words.         

"Luckily for Blondie’s sake, Choir-boy is out of the picture. I'm trying not to be a colossal asshole here, but I need to remind you that I'm waiting for a full account what happened to his emerald, lovesick eyes. He didn't even manage to leave me the very, very expensive gift we had agreed upon… you know he was smitten with you, right?"

"Varric I won't talk about Sebastian and you know it. But to throw you a bone, let’s just say that whoever tries to force me to choose between Anders and themselves can leave me right fucking now... be so kind and focus on what the bloody kibble I should do about this new mess?" She looked into his eyes, searching for advice like a mabari puppy for its master.

Varric shuffled his feet, a compassionate expression on his face. "Don't give me that look, please, I have no clue how you could fix Blondie and his glowing friend. Just go find him and leave everything to your disturbingly accurate intuition. I’m sure you two, or three, could work it out." He smiled reassuringly and left for a well-deserved, cool pint in his Hanged Man's suite.

...................................................

Lyra noiselessly opened the door to Anders' darkened clinic, knowing very well this was the place to look for her hurting man. He had fled after the encounter with Ser Alric almost immediately. The moment they stepped into the cave and caught the nasty Templar threatening a mage with the Rite, everything fell apart. Justice or Vengeance, she wasn't sure what to call the Spirit anymore, had taken over Anders, fighting and killing with such unnatural force, she alone was taken by his powers unawares. Her heart almost stopped when he aimed all this power to the frightened little girl, mistaking her for their already defeated enemies. If Lyra hadn’t intervened and used her influence to bring Anders back into control of his body, it would have meant a disaster for her beloved. He would have been broken for good.

Nonetheless, this situation was no sunlit picnic either. Anders was clearly upset and ironically enough it was up to Lyra to heal him for a change. Still unsure how to handle this, whether in a gentle or in a more pushy way, she stepped in, searching the shabby room for his dark blond hair and feathered robes. And there he was, rummaging through various boxes, muttering under his breath, clearly packing to leave. Not paying much attention to his surroundings, he dropped a jar of some balm, sat back on the dusty floor, hugged his knees and began to rock back and forth shaking with inconsolable sobs.

She wasn't prepared to see him in this deeply disturbed state, her strong and fearless man, the relentless fighter for freedom both of spirit and body. She froze on the spot for what seemed like eternity, half torn between sneaking out, or kissing him all over.

Lyra almost jumped when a soft meow came from behind her and a huge fluffy grey and white cat padded through a loose wooden plank in one of the double doors. Anders hadn’t  noticed it until the beast nagged its head into his shoulder, and then paraded before him, making sure its fluffy tail tickled him under his nose. Anders scratched it under the robust chin, the loud purr calming him down a little.

"Thank you for your concern, champ... but I'm leaving, as you see... don't worry I'll make sure to pass the milk and meat duty on a reliable person..." he looked up in Lyra's direction, but for the first time there was no bright smile or a playful smirk on his lips; he simply acknowledged her presence with a tired sigh and met her careworn, green eyes. His honey colored ones were full of sorrow, fear and above all else, defeat. His face solemn, his voice cold and quiet. Every word that followed added a new layer to the wall her lover was building around himself.

"I assume you came here to calm me down and talk me out of any rushed measures. But there's nothing you can say or do to make me stay. You see… I've become a danger to everyone, not just the blighted Templars, you saw it firsthand. When Justice sees such an abuse of power, I can’t calm him down, I can’t fight him... It took all my strength and willpower to come back to your calling. If you weren't there I would have killed Ella for sure. This can't happen again... I have no other choice than to leave... please go home and forget about me."  _ I hope I'll never see you again, I'm not strong enough to resist you. I would hold you in my arms forever, if only the fate would be a little less cruel. _

Without a single word in response Lyra listened to her intuition and walked to the wall. She took two practice wooden staffs propped there and offered one to the mage. Surprised  to hear her own voice all strong and commanding, while feeling insecure on the inside, her heart racing like a startled horse. "You are not allowed to quit. Never. Now kindly stand up and take the staff. You just need to blow off some steam while being just on your own. There isn't any templar to fight or mage in need of protection, so Justice won't take over. But the exercise will help you get rid of some long accumulated anger and frustration." When Anders didn't bother, she nudged him with the staff in his shoulder.  

Suddenly he stood all tall and determined before her. "Hawke this is ridiculous. I won't fight you, please just let me pack and go." He turned his back to her, and began to organize various surgical instruments on his desk, putting them carefully in worn leather cases.

Lyra felt the sting from him using her father's name. During the first time they made love Anders called her by her first name and it quickly became his habit in private. It sounded intimate and loving, accompanied by his endearing charming smile, Lyra still felt the butterflies in her stomach every single time her name left his lips.  'Hawke' was reserved for battle cries and the company of others. She didn’t want to hear her name voiced by anyone else, Varric or Bella would sure use it in a mocking way as a part of some naughty joke. She took a deep breath, her hands shaking a little with anticipation if the chosen approach would work and help them both. In one precise, swift motion she hit her lover hard from behind over his perfect thighs.

Anders let out a surprised hiss and reacted in a fraction of second. He spun around but before he managed to make another move, the other practice staff landed in his hands and he had to duck another well aimed blow from Lyra. He was taken aback with her highly skilled attacks, dual wielding rogues trained opposite reflexes and fighting style, using their arms separately, not in the synchronized manner The staff as a two-handed weapon needed wholly inverse approach.

Anders ducked and met every single blow she aimed at him, yet was slowly, step by step, forced to move backwards. His defenses were flawless and impenetrable. He kept a safe distance from his petite but ferocious assailant. Right, low, up, left, aside... their staffs crashed and banged, making a typical solid crack with every contact. The steady pace and regular rhythm soon became a strangely calming routine.

"Stop retreating, man! Try and hit me, you blighted babyboy! Or I swear I'll go to the first Templar I see, for a really passionate encounter!" She needed him to fight back, that was the only way to open the damned box he stuffed his feelings in, shutting them before Justice, to avoid his outburst. But it was the time to let the rage beast out and tame it with exhaustion.

Anders froze just for a second, then shrugged off his robes in one fluid motion, his upper body naked and covered with glistening sweat. His dark blonde hair came loose. With muscles well defined and constricted in a fighting position he looked like a lean but powerful god of war in Lyra's eyes. A shiver ran down her spine, suddenly she needed him to take her there, as a part of this stress relieving exercise itself. The moment of sinful drooling and hesitation cost her, however.

Anders went into a counterattack with so much speed and force, she almost lost her footing. He hit her hard in her upper chest, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Somehow she managed to duck low afore his next hit, regained her balance and rolled aside. She tried to trip him with the staff hitting his ankle with unmatched precision.

"Shit! You little..." Anders cursed and landed on top of her, forcing Lyra onto the dusty floor using only his own weight. But before he could immobilize her arms, she swung her right fist and hit him hard in the bridge of his nose with her hard bony knuckles. This earned her a reflexive shift in his position and she could slip from beneath him with a catlike grace.

Anders was livid, warm blood ran from his broken nose into his opened mouth, its copper taste sharp on his tongue. He slowly stood up, feeling every muscle and impacted bone, he kicked away both practice staffs and grabbed Lyra's arm. With a crushing grip around her wrist he forced her to retreat until she hit his desk, causing glass bottles and other equipment to rattle. Her laborious breathing became heavier, the bodice of her fighting leathers felt so tight around her heaving breasts, she wanted nothing but to tear it off. The quickly running blood coloring her cheeks to a bright shade of pink took a new direction, starting a tingling and tense sensation between her legs. Undoubtedly her smalls would be wet in an instant. She ran her tongue along her soft bottom lip unintentionally, staring intently at Anders' well defined chest.

Before she could actually touch him, he once again used the binding spell on her wrists, this time fixed them behind her back. He took her chin in his left hand and roughly forced her to look up in his eyes. There was nothing soft about them, just a hard and piercing stare, his honey colored irises appeared darker due to the lack of light.

Without a word he deftly opened three top buckles of her leather bodice, unlaced the light undershirt and run his right thumb over her nipple, adding a slightly painful twist once the nipple was perked. He cupped her breast in his long-fingered hand, squeezing it with urgency. His left hand let go of her chin and he ran it aside of her neck, as if preparing it for his assault. And once his hand got lost in Lyra's loosened tresses, he attacked with full force, biting and licking the soft white skin beneath her ear raw, leaving clearly visible marks. A moan escaped from his tough, rogue kitten, when he hoisted her on the edge of the table and grinded his hips into hers, leaving not a single doubt about his intentions.

Lyra wished for nothing else but to unlace his pants, pull out his hard cock, make a few loving strokes from the base to the exquisite tip and watch it vanish into her over and over again. But her wrists were firmly tied together, all she could do was to arch her back to get the crucial parts of her body closer to his passionate ministrations. He grabbed her shoulders roughly and forced her to lie down on the desk, almost simultaneously lifting and wrapping her legs around his hips. Nothing but clothing separated their pleasure centers from the much desired contact.

Under other circumstances Lyra would be extremely uncomfortable, her hands tied together, trapped below her body, shoulders strained painfully, yet somehow none of this mattered. The only thing completely consuming her wits was her need for Anders. Anders inside of her, to be accurate. Her insides were contracting already, letting her wet essence out with each blissful spasm. One touch in the right spot and she would explode.

A soft "please" escaped her lips in the same moment as Anders started to unlace her worn leather pants. They both let out a content sigh, once he pushed two fingers all the way in, while running his other palm in between her breasts down to her stomach and further until he reached the swollen nub. He squeezed it between his thumb and index finger, then quickly lowered his head and ran his tongue over it, repeating the move until Lyra was squirming frantically on the table, the stimulation so intense she could bear it no longer. Yet when he suddenly stopped she felt so exposed and abandoned, a painful longing overwhelmed her.

A few rustling sounds later she moaned in approval as Anders yanked her pants down, spread her thighs almost over their limits and buried himself in one fluid motion inside of her. A pleasant feeling of fulfillment spread in her center, she crossed her pain threshold slightly with every one of Anders' forceful thrust. He held on her slender hips so tightly, his fingers bruised the soft skin underneath, as if afraid she would vanish the moment he softened.

Lyra's neck was raw and dry on the inside, all she could do was to breathe in unison with his regular relentless pace, emitting hoarse whimpers with every assault on her inner nerves meeting Anders' hard length. She looked up in his face, his eyes were shut, lips pursed together, his nostrils wide with all the laborious breathing, the frown wrinkle clearly visible between his knitted eyebrows. As if he became aware of her intent gaze, Anders pulled out of her leaving a unbearable emptiness behind. Tears for such robbery were already welling in Lyra’s eyes, when she cried in surprise as he deftly flipped her over on her stomach. Pressing her left cheek to the wooden table, finally freeing her hands, so she could use them for much needed support against the desk, he grabbed her hips and sheathed himself fully in her from behind.

Anders started to chase his release in the earnest, his mighty thrusts became faster, with every one of them he pushed deeper inside of her, even though it seemed impossible to do so. His ever so gentle hands with nimble slender fingers transformed into claws, gripping her to hold her ass still; one of them suddenly let go and a loud slap bounced off the clinic's walls, accompanied with a delirious scream from Lyra, she hurt but also wanted more, the bittersweet pain almost pushed her over the edge. As the second blow hit her other butt cheek, leaving red hand imprint, the healer and his rogue both cried out, finding their release at last. A few more and gentler thrusts to ride each single wave of the orgasm, Anders crashed with all his weight on Lyra’s back, pinning her even harder against the desk. After their racing pulses slowed down a bit he whispered with a hoarse voice in her ear. "Thank you."

Lyra's heart gave a mighty flip and she smiled for herself, knowing that the crisis was dealt with successfully.

Anders straightened himself slowly and helped her back on feet. They needed to hold each other tight, both exhausted and bruised, his broken nose still bleeding a little and Lyra's knees made of jelly. They stumbled to a nearby cot and snuggled in, wrapping their legs and arms around each other. Their eyes felt heavy, sleep slowly creeping in, comforting and welcomed.  

"Did I hurt you, love?" The healer mumbled into the rogue’s black hair and promptly summoned his mana to cast a spell to help his beloved, but she captured his hand and whispered into his chest, her lips brushing against the still tickling skin.

"I treasure every bruise you give me."                                                                             


	8. Moving on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter before the Qunari invasion; tiny bit nsfw ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the amazing TurboNerd :)

Sun was slowly setting down, golden sunrays reflecting through the inlayed windows sheets drawing lively patterns on the marble floor of her parlor. Dog on his back with his belly completely exposed for anyone to stroke was lying on the expensive rug she bought a while ago. Of course not only his spiky hair ruining the flowery pattern, he had to drivel over the central snowy white lily as well.

Lyra Hawke was sitting in a comfortable armchair, an extra pillow under her bruised ass, staring blankly on a brand new painting over her fireplace. A golden beach in sunset, completely lonesome beside two black dots in the distance, taking a walk along the tide line. _If only they could walk like that forever. Bare feet on warm sand, an occasional high wave rushing over their lower tanned legs, leaving a tingling sensation and the urge to chase it back in the sea. Light breeze ruffling Anders' dark blond and hers raven black tresses together every time they stopped for a kiss. She could almost taste the sweet mix of salt and wine on his warm soft lips, and smell the intoxicating combination of elfroot, sandalwood, fresh parchment and something unearthly that was distinctly Anders._

A sharp knock ended her sweet daydream abruptly. Dog flipped over to his feet in the instant, ran to the cellar door, barking like mad, but wagging his whole bottom enthusiastically. A small girl suddenly woke in Lyra and she quickly rushed towards the already opening door to hide behind them. First the delicious scent hit her nose followed by her beloved man. She held her breath, and then moved swiftly forward, jumped on his back, her legs locking around his slender waist.

A surprised yell bounced of the walls and all of sudden the air was full of flowers and paper scrolls flying in every direction. Lyra playfully bit the side of his neck, jumped down, Anders turned and hugged her tight.

"Come here you little minx, I need to taste your divine lips." A gentle kiss followed, Anders lips brushing feather-lightly all over her upper and bottom lip, savoring the closeness and intimacy. He buried his left hand in her loose locks, caressing the back of her neck, while running small circles with the other along her lower back.

"Mmmm this is nice, but we have to clean up this mess before Dog starts to tear the papers and pee on the flowers I've stolen for you, risking to have my arm chopped off."       

“Oh, aren’t you sweet! And I can only presume these are the long stored, secret love letters you had written me over the years and never actually delivered them on my nightstand?” Lyra smiled and batted her eyelashes theatrically.

“Sorry love, these are just some copies of my Manifesto… but I sure can compose a poem for you… hmm let me think…

I love your sweet lips,

I drool over you swaying hips,

if you want me fixed,

lick my mighty… ehm sausage?”

They both burst into a laughing fit, tears welling in Anders’ warm eyes, Lyra started to hiccup uncontrollably. Dog joined enthusiastically, jumping and barking merrily, successfully ruining the precious copies, along with velvety red roses and sharp scented lavender.

Anders sunk to his knees, trying desperately to save what he could, cursing her smelly mabari under his breath. As a cat person he didn’t care for the dog, to him he had just one purpose and that was to tear apart every damned villain getting too close to Lyra. There was absolutely no need to suffer his wet hair smell, everywhere present spiky hair and muddy paw prints. He needed to kick him out of the bedroom at least.

He slowly lifted his gaze as Lyra’s bare feet appeared right in front of him, her crimson tunic suddenly pooled around her skinny ankles. He smiled happily as the familiar well worn undershirt came into view, the frayed hem lightly touching her upper tights.

“I’ve have been living under the impression that I would have my shirt back soon, cleaned and with a lavender soapy scent.”

“Sorry dear, I’ve called dibs on this one. But I can buy you a dozen new ones, if you like. There’s a particularly fine dress saloon down near the Sewers… Honey do leave the mess for now, I have a surprise for my awesome man.” She ruffled his silky hair playfully just before he raised up, towering over her.

Anders kissed the tip of her nose lovingly and breathed in her ear whispering “I hope you meant me, I love surprises.”

She fought the urge to pull him down and make love on his Manifesto, firmly grabbed his hand and led him to the library. Suddenly she felt insecure and nervous about her plan. _Oh come on, get it together, you’re a grown woman, not a fifteen year old daddy’s girl!_

“So… you have spent most nights here, you have my keys but I haven’t asked you to move in officially. I took the liberty of getting you this writing desk stuffed with parchment, quills and ink; a cabinet for your herbs, potions and tonics and there’s a small empty wardrobe in the bedroom… and I just… you would make me really happy if… will you come live with me… please?” Lyra bit on her lower lip, shifting her weigh from one leg to the other, looking at her bare feet. _That was really smooth you pathetic fool._

      Anders’ heart tightened, he blinked quickly to fight back the tears threatening to well up in his eyes. Suddenly he swept Lyra of her feet, walked toward the brand new writing desk a lowered her gently on it. He cupped her face lovingly, looked down in her true bright-green eyes, taking a moment to find his voice.

“There’s nothing I would want more, my love. This is the first place I have ever felt at home, and that’s all your doing.” He lowered himself down for a kiss, burying his fingers in her long hair, pushing gently her legs apart to stand between them. He smiled against her lips, just before claiming them for his own. “But promise me, you never set foot in the kitchen, and Dog has to stay out of our bed.”

“Oh yeah… sure… whatever…” Lyra was suddenly fairly distracted with his kisses, slender fingers exploring her sparely dressed body, teasing her sensitive spots, sending shivers down her spine to her very center. He deftly unlaced his former undershirt and bend down to run his tongue in circles around her perked nipples, taking the peaks into his mouth one by one.

“Hmm so I take it you like the desk then?” She gripped the wooden edge tightly, hissing passionately as Anders slipped his hand under the shirt and traced a tingling line between her breasts to her belly button and further down.

“I love it, but it might use a little polishing… do you mind taking off your smalls?” He stopped touching her, stepped back a little and just locked his amber eyes into her own, his gaze so intense and full of desire. Lyra gulped and took down her smalls slowly, never breaking the eye contact. Anders got close enough to teasingly ran his skilled fingers over her sex, she breathed out in barely audible whisper. “It seems you’ve developed a serious obsession with desks lately… I need to take you to the furnishers…”

“Just unlace my pants, love.”

………………………………………………………………….  

Tdmn, tdmn, tdmn… Lyra was moving with the steady rhythm of Red Wind’s gallop, once again choosing the ride as a perfect means to clear her buzzing head. The past two months were so hectic and difficult, in one moment she even wished to move back to Ferelden. Of course that was impossible but for a few moments she had wondered how her and Anders’ life could be different. Sure, they would be living in hiding, but in Ferelden’s vast and spacy countryside, they could simply be farmers, she could train and sell horses… _You will be looking over your shoulder for Templars and Grey Wardens every other damned second, you fool!_

She admired Anders’ devotion to his cause, his relentless fight with the authorities to free his fellow mages. He was determined to get them a real life, not the mockery they’ve been experiencing in the locked Circles. The possibility to work, live and love freely according to their desires. But she feared the results as well as she wanted the oppression to stop. Not all men’s desires were pure and simple, she for one, knew that very well, saw and has seen the results of mages overstepping the line over and over again, had to plunge her own daggers into the gruesome creatures they had become. She wanted to believe her man and share his confidence that once the oppression would stop the mages would have no reason to use such drastic measures, but from what she knew about mankind, she had serious doubts about it.

Yet the true point was that no one should be punished and imprisoned before they actually did something wrong. Innocent until proven guilty. And this cause she would support no matter how many greedy and power-hungry abominations she would need to kill afterwards.

He moved his things in the mansion a few days after her clumsy invitation. Not that he owned much. Almost everyone of the boxes was packed with dried herbs, vials, flasks, instruments, powders, bandages, he practically moved the clinic’s reserves in her house, because he didn’t consider the clinic to be safe anymore. Sometimes she was a little annoyed when she tripped over a particularly heavy box she couldn’t see in the dark, but then she breathed in his delicious scent that had filled the house, and she smiled to herself like some happy simpleton.

They shared much fewer moments together than she would like, Anders was busy with the underground dissent and running his clinic, and she was neck deep in the city trouble with the more and more problematic Qunari presence; it was crystal clear that bloodshed was approaching. All she could do was to delay it and minimalize the casualties as much as was in her power.

With a grim expression she looked around herself to find out that she rode further away from the city than she originally intended. Suddenly, she wished she had brought Dog along with her instead of leaving him with Aveline in the barracks. She was in a lightly wooded area, the ground was not providing an easy survey, there were trees, large rocks and bushes everywhere and the slowly setting Sun was casting deceitful shadows.

She slowed into a steady pace, with the intention to go back once she checked her back was clear, when a weird glint caught her eye just a few feet further on the road. She pulled on the reins abruptly and slide down the saddle. Holding the reins she crouched down and confirmed her original suspicion. A thin but firm wire was outstretched over the path, just in a perfect height to trip a horse, sending it and its rider to collide hard with the rocky ground. While on the ground she drew her daggers and then rose slowly up, scanning her surroundings warily.

She spotted three shadows moving carefully through the bushes; a fight seemed inevitable. Backing a little bit to tie her stallion to a tree,she moved in the middle of the path, to have better range of vision and enough maneuvering space. Red Wind began to stomp and neigh nervously as he too felt the approaching danger. Three footpads came into view, armed in mismatched pieces of cheap armor, all of them had drawn their longswords, one had also a battered wooden shield. She could probably take these down on her own, but she was worried about possible hidden archers.

“Hey, that’s a damn fine horse you have there! If you give it to us now, along with your purse, you will walk away alright, girl. But you need to put those fancy daggers down first, otherwise we take them from you, and we might even pay a respectful visit to your pussy, sweetie.” The middle bulkiest one moved forward, licking his lips, taking in her appearance, swinging the simple longsword slowly. “But now I’ve seen you this close I’ve changed my mind. There’s no walking away for such a beauty like you before we all are satisfied.”

As the other two were just enjoying their leader’s witty speech, relaxed in their stances, waiting for her to surrender, Lyra stood her ground with both daggers ready. The leader came one last step closer, grinned and made a mocking gesture indicating for her to drop her weapons.

Instead she jumped forward to his right side, the moment he raised his swordhand revealing an unprotected armpit, she quickly buried one of her daggers there. She scarcely pulled it out when the other two were on her and all she could do was to dodge their attacks searching to gain some advantage over the situation. She made a somersault to get low and at least a few feet away, when an arrow hissed nearby, finding its target in an eye of one of the two advancing men. The other one spun wildly around looking for the concealed assassin, but he never found them as Lyra’s dagger deftly pierced his airway. She quickly pulled it out ignoring the gurgling sound as his blood rushed out of his throat, and took a defensive stance over their fallen bodies while searching for the archer herself.

A hooded figure leading a nice white horse was slowly descending from a nearby wooded hill, a fine place to take cover while having perfect view on the path below. As he came closer and lowered the hood of his light brown camouflage cloak Lyra relaxed her wary stance, sheathed her daggers and waited for him to speak first.

Sebastian Vael took a moment to find his words, the two months keeping his distance from Hawke made him forget the distracting effect her close presence had on him. “You shouldn’t be out in the open alone, Hawke. These are dangerous times.” He studied her face, taking in her lively eyes and full lips, and waited for her reaction to his unexpected appearance and probably a little questionable aid.

“Like I didn’t know that. I’m ankle deep in Qunari shit, but from your weird timely appearance I presume you already know about my every step. Although I think I was kinda expecting you to watch me from afar. And now as you so effectively turned your spying into saving my neck I can’t be possibly mad at you, can I?” She grinned and pulled him down into a friendly hug. “How are you doing, Seb?”

Despite his desire to hold her for the eternity, he broke the hug and looked into her eyes with pressing urgency. “Never mind how I’m doing, just listen to me, Lyra. Kirkwall is heading towards an open conflict with the Qunari and you’re in the middle of it. Because of Anders I can’t fight on your side anymore, but I can’t watch from afar as you walk towards your very possible death. Now I see that the only way for me to take up my throne is with you by my side. Please come with me to Starkhaven, it won’t be easy in the beginning, but I feel we will succeed eventually. We could leave this very moment, you have Red Wind and your daggers. We can get everything else on the road.”

His deep emerald eyes were desperately pleading with her bright green ones. Lyra caressed his cheek lovingly and smiled sadly at him. “I can’t do that and you know it. Kirkwall is my home now and as much as I wish for a more peaceful and boring life, I have to withstand this storm and hope to get into calmer waters one day. And I couldn’t ever leave Anders, he's my life.”

Sebastian’s pained and heartbroken expression spoke for itself. “I just had to try. But I do beg of you; be careful! It’s not just the Arishok you need to fear. Anders will never put you first, his fight for the mages is the single most important thing to him. When he has to choose between you and his cause, don’t fool yourself believing he will stand beside you. Not to mention he has a dangerous demon inside of him.”

Lyra took a step back from the archer, his words wounded her deeply. “Don’t you worry about me, I am and will ever be safe with Anders. Now I need to get back. Thank you for saving my ass, Sebastian.” She walked back to Red Wind, leaving the sad and disappointed rogue behind.

“Can I at least accompany you back to the stables?” He called to her beseechingly.

“You can but it won’t change the way things are between the three of us.” Lyra shouted over her shoulder as she was already on Red Wind’s back, urging him to brisk trot.                          

 


	9. Demands of the Qun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight with the Arishok... not a full account of the quest, I think we all know it well... this was supposed to be way longer angsty chapter, but then hey, I've got a cliffhanger! So I've decided to break it in two... and as always thank you TurboNerd :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song playing in my head was Seven Devils by Florence and the Machine, I strongly recomment it ;)

Kirkwall was a bloody mess. The Qunari moved fast and with great efficiency. Their invasion was swift, every step carefully calculated a long time ago. Burned ships, fires and barricades in the lower levels, destroyed shops, plundered stores. The Arishok didn’t bother with loot (the Coterie and Carta took their chances there), his goal was simply to terrorize and deal the most possible damage to every Kirkwall citizen he considered unworthy. Which was clearly all of them.

Lyra Hawke stood in the middle of the Hightown market, or more exactly in the middle of its debris. She fought her way through the Docks to get there, pretty much on the wave of adrenaline that hit her when Arishok gave the command to attack them in the Compound. But now her usual primary battle mode faded away and her mind was no longer blank. As if somebody had breathed life and conscience into a former automatic device.

_What am I doing here? Why do I keep fighting this battle? Everything I’ve ever wanted was a nice and peaceful place to live in, my beloved ones whole and happy. A dear person standing by my side. This is not what I bargained for!_

Her past quickly flashed before her eyes. First she ran for her life from the Blight, then she worked and fought hard to rise from dust, dirt and debts to restore her family name. She gained a certain reputation. She became a person people sought after when in trouble and she was mostly happy to help. But this was different. Now it seemed a choice had to be made. To save Kirkwall or run away from all she had worked so hard for, literally with her own sweat and blood.

_So Lyra Hawke, are you a fighter or quitter? Will you let your friends stand alone in the middle of a possibly lost battle? Pick a side! Just do it!_

All the sounds faded, she heard only her own labored breaths, her warm blood fizzling in her ears. There were little gold specks of dust dancing in the air, joined in with the black feather-light ash pieces. Everything moved in slow motion as if a higher force stopped the time for her.  

“HAWKE! Watch out!” Anders screamed and suddenly the silent fog was lifted and all the battle sounds and smells of burning wood and corpses hit her hard. A strong impulse ran through her drained body and she spun quickly aside just in time to avoid a heavy spear aimed for the middle of her chest. She saw her attacker being hit by a lightning bolt and crashed down on a burning wooden shopping stall.

She scanned the battlefield to find Anders just a few feet away, cornered by four Qunari spearmen, one just slashed his spear and despite Anders’ quick reaction left a wide cut across his right thigh. Clearly Anders had wasted the one precious second for mind blast in favor of her defense. Her heart skipped a beat and she shot through the air to plunge her daggers into this blasted creature’s broad back. The other two were hit by Bianca’s bolts from behind, their razor-sharp points reappearing right below the Qunari’s Adam apples. The last giant muscled mountain staggered backwards as Anders’ bolt knocked it down. Aveline finished the last of her three opponents a few seconds afterward, a grim expression on her blood smeared face.

They caught a few moments to heal and breathe out before another group of horned attackers appeared on top of the stairs.

_You foolish little girl, the choice was never yours to make, you’re just a small piece in a grand game of destiny. Defend your home, defend your friends and the freedom for all. Just fight, always fight!_

And fight she did. The four of them began their usual battle tactics, Aveline the unshakable rock and bait for all, Varric and Lyra dealing great damage from the shadows, Anders in the rear, healing and rejuvenating them and shooting lightning bolts in the spare seconds.

But today there was wave after wave, the never ending tide of Qunari, slowly wearing them out. She suddenly felt as though she were drowning in it, her energy was dissolving steadily in the imaginary rising water she almost felt pooling around her knees.

Two fresh attackers appeared above them, but this time they never made it down the stairs. A hand with glowing tattoos ripped one’s heart out of his chest, as the other one’s head was chopped off a second later with a gigantic greatsword. Lyra sighed in relief as Fenris’ deep voice carried across the market to her.

“I thought you might need the greatsword you gave me, Hawke!”

They quickly regrouped and redistributed the few healing potions they had left. But before they could head deeper into the burning Hightown a blinding explosion of light followed by a shock wave knocked them down. A Saarebas leading another group of the Qunari suddenly ran down the right flight of stairs.

With a blurred vision she saw a mighty woman killing one attacker, a group of Templar knights following hurriedly in her footsteps. _Knight-Commander Meredith, pleased to finally meet you._

…………………………………………………………….

**Viscount’s Throne room**

Lyra Hawke stood in the middle of the magnificent marble hall, her hands gripping her daggers, hilts trembling lightly. A series of quickly rotating images was projected before her wide open eyes.

The Viscount’s chopped off head landing a few feet in front of her, the simple dark metal crown rolling quickly to stop an inch from her right boot.

The frightened nobles, ready to convert to the Qun to save their precious big, fat arses.

Isabella rushing in with the damned Tome of Koslun, handling it to the Arishok with some pathetic witty comment, as if it was a mere copy of one of Varric’s highly educative books.

The Arishok. Challenging her. To duel.

_Breath in, breath out… and just fight, always fight!_

Lyra dared not to look in Anders’ eyes, she might lose her determination and run like a frightened little girl into his protective arms. She nodded to Aveline and Fenris instead, to remind them of the oath she made them swear a long time ago. If a vital mission threatened to cost her life to succeed, they were bound to restrict Anders and prevent any desperate action he might rush into to save her. This was the case. The last thing they needed was Vengeance taking over. She had to play according to the Arishok’s rules otherwise more bloodshed would follow.

The nobles quickly cleared the space around her, eager to see someone placing their neck at stake for them. She scanned the surroundings carefully, taking in every detail she could use to her advantage in the upcoming duel.

The two mighty pillars she will hide behind. Two broken floor tiles he could trip on while blindly charging for her. Four wooden benches along the walls to provide the extra boost for her escaping somersaults. The highly polished marble and soft rugs which could proof both helpful and tricky to her fluid and quick moves. She had just one damned healing potion left, the fighting through the city claimed all their resources.

The moment she nodded to the Arishok, a desperate “Lyra, don’t!” echoed through the room, followed immediately by the muffled sounds of struggle. But she was deaf to Anders’ calling. The throne room appeared to be empty and quiet, the only thing she perceived was the enormous mountain of muscle and armor brandishing a gigantic axe in the right and a crude sword in the left hand. Running at her. Ready to literally stomp her into the ground and chop to tiny pieces.

 And so Lyra Hawke begun her catlike dance of death. She ducked, spun, rotated, jumped, slid, sometimes even flew through the air. She blended in shadows, stealth behind, sneaked around. And then she cut, jabbed, plunged and buried her daggers in the mighty opponent, dealing the biggest damage she could.

_No pain no gain! Just fight!_

She caught her breath as the razor-sharp axe edge made a long cut on her left thigh. She hissed as the sword cut deeply between her shoulder blades. Her breath was knocked out of her, and a few ribs cracked from the brute impact on the wall. She was bleeding from her nose and mouth, the countless bruises just a bittersweet desert to her suffering.

One wrong move later, she was impaled on the brute sword, sinking along its length slowly down. Her insides were tearing, her warm blood running away, the excruciating pain made her lose consciousness.

The dark welcomed her. She was feeling it. The velvet soft nothingness around her and somehow inside of her too. All the pain vanished as she had no means to house it. No sound to hear, no image to see, just this softness to feel and somehow also smell and taste. The taste was queerly bittersweet, but not unpleasant. A mixture of honey, fresh blood oranges, sparkling bitter wine and salt. She smelt the sea, worn leather, lavender and Anders. The taste and scent of life.

Suddenly a pain wave hit her in the gut. She was back, casted out of the comfortable darkness to the grim present. She caught her breath at last, and held it while reaching for her only healing potion, gulping it down. Her insides knitted together but she knew the internal bleeding didn’t stop entirely, she needed an injury kit or even better Anders to stay alive.

_Later. Now you must fight._

The Arishok was approaching to deal the final blow. He lifted the axe high but it never met the flesh it was supposed to bury in. Lyra spun away while kicking him hard in his inner left ankle, leaped to her feet, using the bench as a take-off spot she jumped…

….and plunged her two daggers from both sides below his neck, pushing them deep down to their hilts with her own weight.

It was over. She stood there all bloody and afraid to move as the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter burst into the throne room with their forces behind them. She stood there as the nobles were cheering and applauding her. She stood there when Meredith with a little disgusted face announced her the Champion of Kirkwall.

And then she finally collapsed on the ground, welcoming the familiar soft darkness.

Anders rushed to her, a powerful healing spell already shimmering in his palm, but as he was flying by Meredith on her way out, a mighty Cleanse hit him hard and drained all the mana he had left. No time to stop, to waste, he just searched his belt for a mana potion, but his trembling fingers found only empty straps.

 

        

 

   

        

 


	10. Healer's Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the fight with the Arishok and aftermath... from Anders' point of view  
> My thanks to Domileen for her amazing editing  
> Soundtrack:  
> The Breath of Life - Florence and the Machine  
> Never let me go - Florence and the Machine

**Viscount’s Throne Room**

_Surely this is how torture feels like!_

Anders was caged, mercilessly left to watch the love of his life willingly rushing to certain death. It all appeared so surreal, the Viscount’s crown laying at her feet. She was offering her own life to save the deceitful pirate’s arse, more precisely to save all of Kirkwall’s arses. He tried desperately to make eye contact, to connect with her and persuade her to abandon this foolish, heroic task. But she didn’t let him, possibly being afraid that he would actually succeed. A few seconds later his nightmare was in motion. Lyra signaled for the duel to begin. His heart skipped a beat. Not knowing what else to do, he made one last attempt to stop this madness and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Lyra, don’t!”

Of course she didn’t flinch. She was the Hawke. Standing straight, proud and ready to deal with every shit the Maker threw at her. Or Andraste. Or destiny. Whatever.

Anders felt the ground shaking slightly as the mass of muscles advanced on her. An image of a gigantic bronto and a tiny cat about to be run over crossed his dishabille mind. He reached automatically for his staff to cast a barrier around her, but two pairs of strong metal gloved hands gripped tightly his arms from behind.

“Anders, don’t do anything, that’s Hawke’s command,” Aveline said solemnly behind him.

When he continued to struggle trying to break free, a hiss whispered in his left ear. “Stay still, mage, or I’ll reach in your chest and ripped out that treacherous heart of yours.” To strengthen his threat Fenris let his lyrium tattoos shimmer, sending a very unpleasant shiver through Anders’ ribcage.

When Lyra deftly avoided the first Arishok’s attack, he stopped struggling with the two warriors. Instead he focused entirely on his beloved and channeled all his mental strength and energy towards her.

Anders knew her moves by heart. And now he lived through them, feeling them in his mind, following her every step. He pictured each limp, each muscle she was using and tried his best to send his inner energy to boost and strengthen her. He wasn’t angry or terrified anymore, he felt only love and devotion for her, a pure feeling enabling him to focus entirely on his dearest. He knew Justice or Vengeance wouldn’t surface, as long as he stayed focused and didn’t let the frustration in.

But Lyra’s winning streak was about to end. Anders’ knowledge of her moves allowed him to see the blows seconds before they actually found her. She ducked too slow and a wide gash appeared on her left thigh. Anders exhaled deeply, feeling the cut himself and focused on the red line, picturing the blood leaking out and he urged it to clot. The injury seemed to fire her next attack and she cut the Arishok from behind his knee, ripping the main tendons there.

But the brute had apparently no need for them to be able to move with ease. He spun surprisingly quickly for someone his size and cut through the smooth leather between her shoulder blades. The force of the blow threw her forward and she hit the pillar hard, breaking her nose. Anders blinked and looked away. In an instant he forced his eyes back on her. He needed to see, to share Lyra's suffering and try to help her get through this ordeal.

_I’m here with you love… please keep fighting. Lyra, fight for us!_

As if she had heard his plea, Lyra caught a second wind and dealt a well aimed blow, her dagger cutting a deep red opening across the Arishok’s muscled chest.

Anders wasn’t sure if the fight had been lasting for several hours or several minutes, either way, he could hardly find another memory in his mind that felt so lively, sharp and intense as the moments he was living right now.

In painful slow motions, he witnessed the horror as she lost her footing over a crumpled rug and then suddenly she was impaled on the Arishok’s crude sword, sinking slowly down towards the massive hilt. When the monster threw her down to free his weapon, she looked like a bloody bundle of limps, leathers and matted black hair. Not a single twitch of muscle, her chest were still, from what Anders could see, he guessed she had no heartbeat. The throne room became unnaturally quiet, the only audible thing was the Arishok’s labored breathing.

Anders’ knees gave away, he would hit the ground if the two warriors hadn’t hold him firmly. He closed his eyes and tried to call for Lyra in his mind. He visualized her in front of him, the smooth suntanned skin, her soft lavender scented tresses, her sparkly green eyes. The amused smirk of her perfect lips that he loved so much.

A distant memory of his mother came to him suddenly, reviving his need to be loved unconditionally, to be comforted and held, to love back with every piece of his heart. We won’t let that slip away once he finally found it again. He began to mutter his plea, completely unaware, he used the long forgotten language of his father’s homeland.   

_Mein Schatz bitte bleibt mit mir, du bis mein Lebenslicht!_

_*My darling please stay with me, you_ _'re the light of my life!*_

The healer urged her blood to run, heart to beat, lungs to fill with the heavy air. With all his willpower, he pushed his love out of the comfortable darkness towards the painfully blinding light of life.

In what felt like an hour of torture but in fact were merely few seconds, Lyra gasped silently, her chest rose and her trembling fingers found the only healing potion on her belt. She gulped it down, her movement completely unnoticed by the Arishok, who was already lifting his battle axe to deal the final blow. Anders reflexively reached for his mana to cast a barrier around her, but in the very moment she kicked the large Qunari hard in the ankle, leaped to her feet, bounced off the nearby wooden bench and jumped, sinking her daggers from both sides below his neck. Both opponents fell to the floor, but the only one rising up was Lyra Hawke.

The remaining Qunari left without a word and Anders breathed out in relief, suddenly aware of the cramp in his firmly closed jaw, the painful tingling in his palms as he was digging his fingernails deep into them. But before he could close the distance towards her, there was a commotion behind them, Meredith and Orsino finally catching up, leading significantly reduced units of both Templars and mages alike.

The crowd of relieved nobles began to cheer and applaud their savior, Anders saw the badly hidden disdain on Meredith’s face as she announced Lyra Hawke to be the Champion of Kirkwall. However, once again, he blocked all the distractions and focused on Lyra. Her skin was paper-white, her lips pale and she was trembling slightly. As soon as the Templars and mages turned to leave, Lyra’s knees gave away and she silently collapsed on an expensive soft rug.

He ran towards her, his heart beating fast, a healing spell already shimmering on his palm, but as he passed Meredith, a mighty Cleanse hit him hard in the guts, robbing him of all his magic and mana.

He froze in horror for a brief moment, felt Justice stirred at the violent interference into his powers. But he didn’t spare a thought on that matter, his only interest was laying unconscious a few feet away from him. Anders searched his belt frantically for a mana potion he very well knew wasn’t there.

“Captain, is there any lyrium in the barracks?” He turned to Aveline in a desperate plea for help.

The captain turned her head sadly, her eyes full of compassion. “No, there isn’t, we have no need for it in the City Guard.” She paused for a moment, searching for a solution to yet another crisis and then barked an order. “Varric, run after Orsino, he sure has at least one mana potion left!”

“Anders, we could move her to my room, to wash her wounds and I have healing potions and injury kits in the store room!” She turned to the mage, who was already unclasping the buckles on Lyra’s light battle leathers in haste. He tore apart her undershirt, leaving only the sweaty breast band in place and began a gentle examination of her bruised chest.

“No, we can’t move her, she’s bleeding internally. And I can’t make her swallow anything if she’s unconscious. Only a healer could save her now but she won’t last until my mana is restored, I NEED at least a few drops of lyrium NOW!” He called out desperately. As he traced his slender fingers along her jaw to her pale lips, Anders whispered a barely audible prayer for his love. “I would gave my life for you, if I only could. Hold on for me a little longer love, don’t let go yet…. I beg of you.”

Isabella shot a guilty look in Lyra’s direction and ran off calling over her shoulder. “Gonna break into Hawke’s estate, she has a stash there!”

Anders searched again and again for a spark of his restoring mana, which bore no result. His whole body felt weak and empty. He checked repeatedly Lyra’s shallow breathing, his own heart hammering in his chest faster, as her heartbeat began to slow down. Once more he lifted his head to their companions and the shocked crowd of nobles, searching for help and looking for Varric’s return.  There was no sound of the dwarf’s heavy footsteps.

Aveline sent a few volunteers to search the Hightown’s market ruins and was pacing nervously back and forth.

Fenris was cleaning his greatsword in long automatic strokes, a habit he used to calm himself down. Now and then he looked at Hawke and her miserable abomination, trying to keep his distance and shaking off the unwanted thought which kept nagging him mercilessly. The sharp dagger. The pain and humiliation. Danarius gulping down the shimmering crimson liquid… _I swore I would never let that happen again!_

As he looked in her pale face every damned help she had provided and all the favors she had done for him without a second thought paraded before his eyes. He sighed resignedly. _I owe this to Hawke!_

Fenris got up quickly and scanned his surroundings. He picked the empty vial from Lyra’s last healing potion and crouched beside her. He took the small throwing dagger from her belt and held its point on the lyrium line tattooed to his left forearm. A moment of final hesitation passed and the elf gritted his teeth while cutting a long opening onto the glowing lyrium in his skin. The blood began to flow from the wound but before it could escape in vain he caught it in the tiny bottle, filling it up quickly.

Anders felt a rough nudge to his shoulder, lifted up his swelled up eyes and stared uncomprehendingly on a glass vial full of silvery shimmering blood and the elven warrior giving it to him.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this… but take it and drink… there’s a small amount of lyrium in it, it should be sufficient for one spell…” A mixture of disdain and determination audible in Fenris’ deep flat voice as he was handing over the one thing he was so sure the mage won’t ever get. Yet there they were.

The light of understanding sparked in Anders’ amber eyes, his brows knitted together as he considered this crazy offer. A second later he snatched the vial from Fenris, gulped it down with a shudder and closed his eyes. He took a deep calming breath letting the lyrium recharge his power, then posed his hands over Lyra’s stomach.

Fenris watched warily the mage’s every move but stepped aside as Lyra’s body was washed with bright green light, the pink color slowly returning to her pale cheeks. Anders sighed in relief as her breathing became deeper and her heart started to beat in a steady rhythm.

Aveline ran towards them, a heavily breathing dwarf catching up with her along the way.

“Meredith…won’t…let…Orsino gave any to…me. Said… it’s illegal to supply an apostate… We’re lucky… she didn’t send any…. Templars to lock you up…. Orsino dared not…to defy…the bitch.” Varric managed to cough out between labored breaths, fighting the dizziness and blinking away the white spots dancing before his eyes.

Anders smiled weakly. “It’s alright. Fenris helped. We can move her to the barracks, until her mansion will be safe again.”

………………………………….

Once Lyra was moved to Aveline’s bed, Anders stripped her entirely, looking closely over every cut and bruise, checking for possible breaks and dislocations. Her vitals strengthen with every minute but she hadn’t gain consciousness yet.

A knock on the door and Isabella rushed forward without waiting for his consent, handing him two mana potions with an apologetic wink. “I’ve brought five more from Hawke’s, I’ll leave them with the Big girl… and I’m sorry, I’ve never wanted… just sorry.”

Anders gulped both potions down hastily and shot her a cold look. “Whatever. Let me do my work.” The pirate opened her mouth to say more, but she thought better on it and left without a sound, leaving the healer to do his magic.

And magic he did. First he once again reassessed her internal injuries and let his spell fill every tiny gash in her insides, double checking for any residual bleeders. He sent a light impulse towards her heart to fuel its vital action and mended two broken ribs. Anders took his time healing every single cut and bruise to his best ability, making sure there would be the smallest amount of scar tissue possible.

Another light knock on the door and Aveline came in with a basin full of warm water, clean washcloth, towels and a warm blanket. “I’ve thought you might need these… how is Hawke doing?” She asked compassionately setting things on her bedside table.

Anders began to wash Lyra’s beaten body gently, silent for a while before voicing the fears clutching his heart painfully. “I healed her body as best as I could, she’s breathing steadily, has a regular heartbeat… the blood loss was critical, though not fatal…  but she’s still unconscious. I don’t know what else I can do. If she doesn’t wake in an hour or two, I fear…” His voice betrayed him and he continued to clean gently Lyra’s body with trembling fingers, leaving the unspeakable words hanging in the air.

Aveline patted his shoulder gruffly. “Just give her some time to recover, she’s strong but the fight cost her a lot. Be patient. I will pray for her.” Anders nodded to her and she retreated, adding another log to the burning fire on her way out.

After cleaning all the blood and sweat from Lyra’s unconscious body he wrapped her in blankets, and sat beside her bed. He took her limp hand into his own and kept running his thumb over her bonny knuckles, back and forth, finding the repeating motion comforting for a while.

Yet there was no escape from his own thoughts. _Useless, completely USELESS!_

He’s a damned fine healer. The best in Kirkwall, probably the best in Free Marches, but here lay the proof of his biggest failure. He could heal her body but he had no cure for her soul.

Anders took her face in his warm hands and with pressing urgency whispered loving words, pleas and prayers, voiced his deepest desires, desperately searching for any sign of consciousness. Time went by and his words were failing him, like the tide waves they crashed against a solid rock wall and shattered to foam in vain.

The fire burned out and he hugged her, burring his nose in her soft hair, wetting it with his now freely running tears.

Another knock interrupted the heavy silence and Varric entered hesitantly, carrying a wooden tray with tea, bread and a few slices of cheese. He looked at Lyra and with hope lifted his eyes to Anders. His expression changed in an instant to deep concern and pity. “I take it that Hawke isn’t just sleeping. Sorry, Blondie, for the intrusion, but it’s been hours, you need to drink and eat, otherwise you’re completely useless to her.”

“What’s the time?” Anders asked dully, stroking her hair absentmindedly.

“Nine, my friend. I strongly recommend you get some sleep. I can watch Hawke for few hours, I can use the time to think over my next book about her, with a happy ending for sure.” The dwarf smiled cheerfully, but his eyes mirrored Anders’ pain.

“I’m not leaving her side, but thank you Varric.” He turned his gaze to Lyra again, swallowing hard. Varric patted his shoulder and turned to leave.

“I’ll tell Aveline to put an extra cot in here for you.”

“No need, I’ll sleep with her. But could you get the fire going? I wasn’t aware it ran out.”

“Sure sure, anything you need.” Varric blew into the red cinders and added three logs on top, which began to crack merrily in an instant. Before closing the door behind he shot a look in Lyra’s direction. “Hawke, I’ll pop in the morning with some booze to celebrate the splendid downfall of the horned beast, so be ready to get properly wasted.”

……………………………………………

A while after Varric left, Anders checked on Lyra’s vitals again, reassured that everything seemed restored almost to normal. He stood up flexing his cramping legs and stiff back and gulped down all the tea, realizing suddenly how thirsty he actually was.

Pacing forth and back between the bed and fireplace he let out the bottled up frustration and despair finally. With a furious scream he threw the empty mug against the stone wall, the shattered piece crouching beneath his angry strides. He kicked the wooden chair hard with his right leg and welcomed the blinding pain in his foot. Still reeling from his inner frustration, Anders then punched Aveline's wardrobe door, the skin on his knuckle bones ripping off under the impact.

_Stop damaging our body, I won’t allow it._

_Oh shut up, unless you have some help to offer, this doesn’t concern you._

_You’re wrong, everything you do concerns me. Don’t forget our purpose. We need Hawke to help us, but if she does not return to full health soon, you need to let go of her and proceed alone._

_SHUT UP!_

Anders groaned and kicked the pile of logs beside the fireplace. He closed his eyes, running his hands in his disheveled hair, his racing heartbeat calmed down slowly. With unnecessary force he threw another log into the fire, sparks flying high, a few even burned through his pants. He turned to watch the beautiful woman, his woman lost in the deepest impenetrable sleep.

He stripped all his blood stained and sweaty clothes, he didn’t bother to change after the fight and walked to the bed. He lifted the blankets and carefully lay down beside Lyra, snuggling his nose near her ear and warming her up with his own body heat.

“Love, take all the time you need to heal, but please come back to me, I need you. I love you. There is no place for me in this world without you…I can’t…” his voice failed him and he just lay there, cradling Lyra in his arms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exact translation for 'Mein Schatz' is 'my treasure'  
> 


	11. Breath of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We left Lyra Hawke injured and unconscious after the fight with the Arishok. Will she wake? ;)  
> Warning: NSFW  
> And thank you TurboNerd, my awesome editor :)
> 
> Soundtrack tips, maybe a little too sweet but whatever:  
> Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman - Bryan Adams

Anders stirred in his restless sleep, his dreams full of advancing Qunari spearmen, blood, and screams followed by heavy silence. Justice spoke to him, urging him to let go of Lyra and continue with the underground dissent without her help, regardless of its value.

 

_Get up and go check with our contacts again, there might be another mage on the run from the Templars, in need of our help._

 

_No! I won’t leave her. She needs me. And she will wake soon…._

 

_You don’t know that. A few more hours and she will be beyond saving, on her way to the Fade. There are very much alive people, who are unjustly oppressed and terrorized. Our duty is to help them. Show your devotion!_

 

_I know, I do! She will….she must. I can’t leave her, so back off for now!_

 

_Lyra…._

 

“Lyra. Ich bitte dich, bleibt mit mir… meine Liebe…ich bin weltverloren ohne dich…”* Anders mumbled in his sleep, his hands closing in fists forcefully until his knuckles turned white. Beads of sweat formed on his warm forehead, slowly sliding down into his knitted eyebrows.

 

A long forefinger traced one drop down along the bridge of his slender nose, across its tip, down to his shapely upper lip. It lingered there, pressing gently in the opening, where white clenched teeth were shining.

 

After a while the finger slipped down to his chin and was joined with a thump gently lifting his face up. A soft and warm mouth pressed against his, in the very spot that was caressed so lightly just a moment ago. The loving touch finally woke Anders up, his honey colored eyes opened wide. He blinked in disbelief, his heart hammering madly against his ribcage, blood running quickly in his limbs, head and cheeks, waking him from the worst nightmare he ever had.

 

Before he could voice any of his questions, Lyra’s lips curled in a grin against his own as she breathed into his mouth. “I’m fine, just a little sore. Now heal me with a kiss.”

 

There was no need to ask twice. Anders claimed her lips passionately, he sucked on them, traced their outlines with his tongue, altering between feather-light touches and crushing pressure, even biting a few times to be sure it was all real. She opened her mouth, inviting him in, her own tongue merged with his, savoring the closeness, renewed intimacy and exquisite taste of her man.

 

In an instant the lips weren’t the only place to express their passionate devotion for each other as their naked bodies met in a loving embrace, limbs entwined together, palms and fingers exploring and caressing every curve and feature.

 

Once Anders reassured himself enough she was indeed present, safe and sound, he stopped and looked questioningly into her lively eyes. “Love are you hurting? Because as much as I want to be with you again, I would be more than happy to wait and just take care of you. As long as you need…”

 

She pressed her body even closer to his, letting her hammering heart beat into his chest. “I need you. And you clearly did a wonderful job, my dear healer. So stop fretting and celebrate with me.”

 

Anders smiled at her, caressing her pink cheek, wondering how lucky he actually was. But as she drove her hips hard into his growing erection, he got lost in her, his thoughts incoherent as only his primal instincts and needs flooded his brain. He rolled over her, careful not to weigh her down too much, no matter what Lyra said, her body was hurt and beaten beyond measure.

 

He buried his nose in her hair behind her right ear, breathing in her scent and exhaling slowly in the pulse point just beneath it. He traced light kisses down her neck, nuzzled his cheek against it, brushed along her collar bones and then kissed a path between her fast heaving breasts. When Lyra squirmed and sighed discontentedly that he dared leave them alone longing for his touch, Anders returned and with a wicked boyish smile began to drag his open lips from her collar bone down towards her pert nipple. Just the moment before he actually touched it, he moved to the other breast, extending Lyra’s longing even more. When he finally took her nipple between his lips and ran his tongue lightly over the very sensitive tip, Lyra hissed and arched her back, entwining her finger in his loose hair.

 

After a blissful moment she pulled on his hair, urging him to take care of her other exposed breast. But as he left the first one Anders guided her own hand to it, urging her to continue the teasing and caressing he started. Only after watching her intently as she cupped her own breast, running her thumb over the peak again and again, he moved to her other one, sucking and licking passionately.

 

Lyra squirmed as the building pressure between her legs reached a painful level, she needed him so badly, her longing for his touch became an actual physical suffering. She pulled on his hair once more, grabbed his hand and guided it between her widespread legs, whispering urgently. “Please touch me and take me, I can’t wait anymore.”

 

Anders kissed her slowly, while playing with her folds. He loved the soft petals that hid her sensitive clit, there was no rose that smelled sweeter to him. So he let go of her lips and traced down a path of light kisses, slowly heading for his prize between her milky white thighs. He only brushed across her abdomen, very well aware of her recent injury and finally settled between her legs. Without any further delay he dipped the tip of his skilled tongue in her inviting center, earning a muffled scream from her.

 

Lyra’s heart was beating fast in her heaving chest, beads of sweat forming and slowly traveling along the path between her breasts. She propped herself up on her elbows, wanted to watch Anders pleasuring her so. But as her eyes took in the scene her blissful smile froze on her lips. “Maker, what the hell is this?” A long zigzagged scar ran across her navel, as a monstrous red worm half buried in her once so smooth skin.

Anders straightened up fast, and his eyes immediately filled with a mixture of guilt and compassion. “Love I’m so so sorry, there was nothing I could do to heal it better. The healing potion you took knitted it together roughly with so much scar tissue I couldn’t reduce it afterwards. I would have to cut all of it out and then heal it once more, but your skin would be stretched so thin I couldn’t afford the risk.”

 

Lyra’s eyes welled up, she turned away from him and curled into a ball on the crumpled sheets.

He spooned her immediately, burying his face in her hair, running his palm lightly along her side, slowly making his way towards the scar, a warm soothing energy dancing over his fingertips.

 

She pushed him away. “Don’t touch it. I just don’t want you to… it’s awful. I am.”

 

“How can you say that? You’re beautiful! You have risked your very life for all of us, and you stayed alive against all odds. This is a reminder. Every time I’ll look on it or touch it, I will remember your bravery, your strength, your devotion and your love. This makes you the Sun in my sky. Never forget it’s true meaning.”

 

Lyra let his loving words wash over her, and slowly sat up, straightened her back and looked on Anders over her shoulder. “Thank you. But I think I’ll need to process it for a while.”

 

He smiled reassuringly at her, rose on the bed and hugged her from behind. “I understand love. Take your time to heal, I’ll be waiting for you.”

 

She nodded and her lips curled into a tiny smile. “What does it take to get something to eat here? And I need a drink. A few, actually.”

…………………….

 

Varric was the first one to check in on them in the morning. A delighted smile spread across his face as he took in the scene before him. Lyra was sitting on the bed in a simple linen shift, while Anders crouched on the floor in just his leather pants trying to pick up all the shards of pottery lying in front of the fireplace.

 

“I knew I would need this. Time to get wasted, Hawke!” Brandishing a full bottle on fine Antivan brandy he scanned the room in vain for any glasses, pulled the cork out with his teeth and offered the bottle to Lyra.

The generous gulp she took almost burned her throat, yet she welcomed the fire and life it sparked inside of her. Varric patted her shoulder and passed the bottle to Anders, who waved it away, as always. “Eh come on Blondie, surely your glowing part won’t mind a little celebration.”

 

The mage hesitated. He was avoiding alcohol ever since the unfortunate incident ending in him on all fours on the roof of a large barn, trying to “save” a perfectly fine cat just napping in her favorite sunny spot. Justice was yelling in his head terribly, in fear for their lives, attempting desperately to control Anders’ drunken, unsure moves.

 

“Anders, take the drink, it will do you good and I’ll watch for any cats, I promise.” Lyra grinned and stood up from the bed. Her back was sore from the hours in it, Aveline clearly used it as a highly effective torturing device. She stood on her toes, stretched as high as her injuries allowed and caught Anders’ hungry gaze, lingering on her bare thighs. Taking the bottle from Varric, she took another sip, locking her bright green eyes in Anders’ honeyed ones. He raised his eyebrow seductively, waiting for her next move. She stepped closer to him, marveling at his bare, well-defined chest and firm abdomen. His messy, dark-blond hair hung loose, and she entwined her fingers in it, and pulled lightly down, encouraging him to kiss her.

 

A loud cough interrupted them, with a promising, mischievous smile she took a step back and handed him the bottle. Anders took a careful sip, savoring the long forgotten rich taste of fine brandy.

 

He remembered his days back in the Vigil’s Keep before merging with Justice. They used to sit after dinner in the big hall, playing Wicked Grace, listening to Oghren’s filthy jokes, drinking ale. Once in a while their fearless, tiny, elven leader Callista, brought out the good stuff, Antivan brandy among it. He liked his mage Commander. They shared a colorful history, dated back to their years of misery and mischief in the Circle. He missed  his Pumpkin and was wondering where the fuck the cute little Hero of Ferelden disappeared to.

 

Anders looked at Lyra again with a content smile and thought, he would never exchange his present for anything. He couldn’t linger in his past, there would be no good coming out of it. He had no regrets as all of his choices good or bad got him to her, finally. _How much time do they have together, though?_

 

Varric interrupted his muse with a loud question aimed for the risen Champion.

 

“So, Hawke, would you mind if I polish the whole fight for my readers a bit? I was thinking you  bit off his gold encased ears, spat the earrings towards Meredith as a welcoming present to your party and then turned into a mabari and peed on his ugly face….does it sound like something Hawke would do, Blondie?”

 

Anders grinned mischievously. “Sure, sure, that screams Lyra to me… but you completely forgot the dashing blonde mage, who let rose petals rain on her head and then scooped the Champion in his arms and walked through the open door toward the red sunset.”

 

“Hmmm, I’m not sure about this, Blondie… you know my readers are not very mage friendly nowadays… so I was thinking you can have a more politically correct proxy. I bet Choir-Boy wouldn't mind but he was sulking in the Chantry…. Hmm a pickle… got it! How do you feel about the curly Knight-Captain, Hawke?”

 

Lyra pretended to seriously contemplate about it for a moment, then puckered her full lips and with a wink towards Anders she stated. “I’m not sure he can use his weapon properly. And a girl needs a little electricity from time to time… helps with the rooftop stress level here.”

 

Varric shot Anders a considerate look and seeing the mage tensed a bit with his last remark, he slowly retreated towards the door. “I hope I haven’t stomped into a hornet’s nest here, Blondie. Should I send Aveline over? She is desperate to spill all the messy details of this Qunari escapade. No doubt she will want your help fixing it. Try to catch a breath first. Celebrate your life.”

 

“Give us a moment Varric, tell Aveline to come in a bit, please.”

 

The muscular dwarf nodded and quickly left the room.

 

As soon as the door closed Lyra crossed the distance towards Anders, took his face in both hands and pulled him down towards hers. “What’s the matter? Are you jealous of Sebastian or even Cullen? Varric didn’t mean it. I hope you see how ridiculous it sounds.”

 

Anders kissed her forehead gently. “No, I’m not. I mean it is not a pleasant thought, but I’m not worried about them.” He pulled her in his arms and hugged her tightly, breathing in her divine scent.

 

“So what is it then? And don’t pretend, I can see that the conversation stressed you out.” Lyra questioned him, while listening to his heartbeat, wrapped contently in his strong arms.

“It just once again reminded me, you need a whole man, who can secure the future you so rightfully deserve. Love, I’m afraid that I would break your heart someday, I can’t deliver the happily ever after ending to our story.”

 

Lyra punched his shoulder lightly. “Oh once again with the “I’m not good for you” nonsense. I assure you that the only man I NEED is here, holding me so lovingly. So please stop worrying, you have no idea how much you’re worth to me. Let me decide, what I can handle, my beloved.”

 

Anders smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I’m your beloved now?”

 

She lifted her sparkling eyes to his face, as she said solemnly. “Yes, you are my beloved man.”

 

A surprising picture popped on his mind.… _Yes I could… I should…I want to._

He ran his thumb across her lower lip urgently, his other hand firmly squeezed her perfect buttocks and pulled the petite rogue even closer. A moment before the inevitable kiss could happen, he exhaled against her lips. “If you don’t object I’m going to kiss my woman now.”

 

They barely touched when an urgent knock violently interrupted they’re intimate moment. A very loud “shit” surely audible on the other side of the door, came from Anders, followed by Lyra’s girlish giggles.

 

“Ehm… Hawke, are you awake and well?”

 

Lyra shot Anders an amused look. “Come in Aveline!”

 

The Guard-Captain entered with a solemn look on her face, that lightened the moment she laid her eyes on Lyra. “Thank the Maker you’re alright, Hawke.”

 

Lyra crossed the distance between them in a few strides and pulled the stiff warrior into a warm hug. “Thanks Aveline.” She was grateful for all the help her friend gave her, but the Captain’s presence also reminded her painfully that the situation in Kirkwall couldn’t possibly be a sunlit picnic. The Qunari invasion had to cost them a lot. A lot of lives and a lot of stolen or damaged property. Speaking of which…

“Where’s Isabella?”

 

Aveline face darkened at that question, it was no secret she disliked the sassy pirate even before this whole mess. Ending their conversations with “shut up whore” made it quite clear.

 

“She’s waiting in my office, Varric is keeping her company plus I have placed guards in front of the door. Although I think she doesn’t want to run off… at least before she sees you’re alright. I also sent a few people to check on your estate, everyone in there is fine, Sandal managed to scare the intruders away with some questionable product of his enchantment. But I suggest you stay here for tonight, there’s no need to rush into the ruined city.”

 

“Thanks Aveline, but I would really like to go home. Does any authority, the Templars in particular, know about Isabella’s role in all of this?”

 

“As far as I can tell… No, only us and the nobles present in the Throne room at the time. They’ve probably forgotten about it already, busy with getting back on their feet. So I think it’s up to us to decide what to do with her. Well, I will give you the courtesy to decide on your own. I owe you that much and more for the incredible victory you’ve brought for us.”

 

“Right, I suppose I should deal with her as soon as possible. Very well, could you send her in here, please?” Lyra frowned. She liked Isabella a lot, she was always fun to have around, her daggers were highly efficient and being a dual wielding rogue herself, she often practiced with her which improved her fighting skills a great deal. She knew better than to trust her completely, but she always thought she earned her loyalty when it came to important matters. So soon after Sebastian’s stupid mistake here she was, once again deciding how to react to a dagger in her back.

 

The moment the Guard-Captain closed the door behind her, Anders took her hand and kissed her palm gently.

 

“I know this is hard for you love, you have such a good heart. And as much as I too like Bella, her kept secret set this whole horror into motion, and you could have been killed. To put you in such danger is unforgivable. Honestly, I don’t know if it would be wise to alert the Templars or anyone else, it might eventually turn against us all. Therefore, I suggest to let her disappear silently, just send her away.”

 

Despite his calm words earlier Anders resumed a hostile posture and frowned deeply as Isabella entered the room. The pirate was obviously nervous, a sigh so rare Lyra’s lips curled into a tiny grin.

 

“Hawke, I’m…”

 

“Isabella I don’t need any explanation or apology, really. What was done, was done. The only question stands; are you gonna pull this kind of crap in the future? Or can I trust you won’t keep anything from me anymore?” Lyra eyed her intently, unconsciously running her hand across her injured abdomen.

 

“I will be true with you, Hawke.” Isabella returned the intense gaze to Lyra.

 

“Then we will speak about this no more. So can you help me to get back in shape? I guess my fighting days are not over yet.” The two women exchange a friendly smile, and Isabella left the room, swaying her hips as always.

 

“Love, I need to speak to Varric, and I’ll bring more food. Rest now.” A hasty kiss and Anders was out of the door quickly.

 

He caught up with the rogue, squeezed her upper arm painfully and hissed in her ear. “I’m gonna watch you closely, woman. Do something to harm Lyra and you’ll regret it for the rest of your pathetic shallow life, understood?”

 

Isabella broke her arm loose and agreed grudgingly. Anders didn’t linger and headed straight for the Captain’s office.

 

Varric was talking to Fenris, apparently about Lyra, Aveline nowhere to be seen. Anders didn’t expect to see the elf there, suddenly he could taste Fenris’ blood mixed with lyrium on his tongue again.

 

 

Fenris lifted his eyes in his direction, his lips forming a thin line. “We had done what was necessary to rescue her. That’s it. We will never talk about that again, mage.”

 

“Fine by me. Varric I need a favor for Hawke, please.”

 

“I’m all yours Blondie.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *“Lyra. Ich bitte dich, bleibt mit mir… meine Liebe…ich bin weltverloren ohne dich…”  
> "Lyra. I beg of you, stay with me...my love... I'm lost without you..."


	12. The Abandoned Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romance is in the air :)

The very evening Lyra Hawke returned home, she opened the door and found everything like it was before, just a large dark smear on the hallway’s wall suggested any trouble.

Dog was at her side in an instant, but somehow he felt her yet fragile state and didn’t knock her over to lick her face, as he would have under normal circumstances.

Widely beaming, Bodahn came rushing to her, offering his help.

“We’re so happy to have you back, messere. We were really worried about you. They tried to break in here, but my boy used one of his wonders, and the two Qunari were surrounded by a thick black smoke, and then the dog was on them. It ended quickly. I apologize for the mess though, we haven’t had enough time to clean properly.”

Lyra smiled gratefully at the chatty dwarf, and then greeted Sandal, who was standing in the doorway, with a pure and innocent face as ever. “Sandal, thank you for your aid, champ. I’m curious. How did you do it?”

The boy looked her in the eyes sincerely. “Enchantment.”

“Of course, how could I forget! You’re a treasure, Sandal. Bodahn, Anders is checking on some patients, he will come later through the cellar door, so don’t be alarmed. I’m going to go take a nap now. Could you tell Orana to draw me a bath in about two hours from now? Thank you.”

The merchant bowed his head respectfully. “I’ll tell her. I think she is already making your favorite meal, hearing your voice from up here. You should rest now messere.”

“Tell her not to fret about me, I’m not hungry, just tired. Good night you two, it is so nice to be back home.”

………………………………..

Once in her bedroom, Lyra crashed on her luxurious bed all dressed in her cleaned fighting leathers, taking off only her boots. A comforting weight pushed her feet deeper in the soft mattress, as Dog curled protectively over them.

She slept soundly for almost two hours, slowly waking up with the flickering light of candles shining from the opened bathroom door and the sounds of splashing water. She rose and stretched, feeling still pleasantly drowsy.

She greeted Orana heartily, happy to see the tiny elf’s innocent eyes, and shy smile. Once the bath was ready and the girl walked back into the kitchen, Lyra stripped carefully, wiped the steam from the large expensive mirror her mother insisted upon, and took in her appearance. The huge scar across her abdomen was hideous, zigzagged and raised, like an ugly worm twisting down toward her lower belly. She didn’t feel any pain, just a weird tingling sensation, when she ran her fingers over it. Feeling like a moaning fool, she blinked away the tears, which started welling in her eyes, straightened her back and took a deep breath. She was a damned good fighter, a kickass rogue, a hero. She was the Champion of Kirkwall, with a scar to prove it.

Nonetheless, she felt a little uncomfortable thinking about exposing it to Anders again… although she realized if their roles were reversed, she would caress him, kiss him, and adore him even more for his bravery.

She exhaled deeply, sinking slowly in the warm water, finally washing away all the remaining sweat, dirt and blood.

Lyra closed her eyes, letting all muscles relax and become pleasantly heavy. Blocking away all the sounds, concentrating only on her tired body, she was startled by long fingers gently entwining in her wet hair. “Shh. It’s me, love. I’m sorry it took so long, many were injured during the battle, mostly cuts and burns, but I had to amputate two hands which were beyond healing. But I’m yours for the rest of the night at least. Let me spoil you.”

And he did. After washing her hair carefully and wrapping her in a comfortable cotton robe he placed a large fur in front of the fireplace, sat down and pulled her on the fur in front of him. He started to brush her wet tresses, caressing her shoulders and the sides of her neck from time to time. “Hmm that feels so good… I should probably get injured more often, if it means such heavenly care.” Lyra moaned as pleasant shivers ran down her spine, she found herself leaning in his touch longingly.

Anders put away the brush and hugged her from behind, pulling her closer, until she was leaning against his chest, sitting in between his spread legs. “Love, there’s no need to let yourself get beat up just to get a proper hair care.” He kissed the top of her head, took in the scent of lavender and Lyra. He could hardly believe his luck. If only…

            _Stop wasting our time, we need to get back to work._

_I know, but I need these three days with her. Three days of rest before we move further. So shut it for now._

The blond mage sighed contently, feeling the spirit retreating to the farthest corner of his mind. A comfortable silence spread across the room, the only audible noises being the crackling of fire and Dog’s peaceful, quiet snoring. He played absentmindedly with Lyra’s hair, twisting one thick lock around his index finger, while sending tiny warm pulses under his other hand, resting lightly across her lower abdomen. A few moments later he felt Lyra’s body become heavier, propped against his chest. Her breathing slowed and deepened. Anders smiled to himself, gently lowered her down on the fur, fetched a blanket from the bed, and covered her up. He stood beside her for a while, taking in her relaxed and untroubled expression. Even the tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows disappeared. He stripped quietly, folded his clothes into a neat pile and sneaked under the blanket right beside her. Hugging her tightly as if she was going to disappear, he buried his face in her soft hair and fell asleep in an instant.

……………………………………….

A crisp morning came and Anders woke up slightly nervous, realizing this was the day. Lyra stirred and mumbled something indecipherable, then she opened her eyes and smiled endearingly at him. “Good morning my handsome man, I’m sorry I passed out so quickly.”

“Don’t be, we will have plenty of time in the evening, but now I need to run a few errands. I’ll tell Orana to prepare you a substantial breakfast.” He planned to place a quick peck on her lips, but once they met, it was unthinkable to leave her. Deepening the kiss, exploring her inviting mouth, sucking on her soft lower lip became his only goals for now. A longing sigh escaped his busy lips, the haze lifted and he reluctantly broke free. _Damn, if only there wasn’t so much to prepare._

“Love, I gotta run, get some rest. Enjoy the perks of your status, my Champion!” He rose up, put on his clothes quickly, taking a moment to look lovingly on her lit up face and ruffled hair before leaving in a hurry. He grabbed a slice of bread along with two apples on his way out, and headed towards the Hanged Man.

_Hmpf. Perks of my status, like as if I would go shopping or visiting the spa._

Lyra smiled to herself, got up, splashed some cold water from the basin on her face and put on her second pair of fighting leathers. She stopped in the kitchen to quickly swallow Orana’s delicious cinnamon pancakes and asked the elf to pack two bags with basic food, such as flour, oats for porridge, potatoes, sugar, honey, dried meat and fruit. She added few woolen blankets and a large roll of thick cotton fabric.

She then grabbed the heavier one, gave the other to Orana and they headed towards Darktown. The journey wasn’t easy, there was debris lying everywhere, quickly moving crowds of stressed out people searching for supplies and help. It wasn’t her first time to feed the poor. She was doing this on regular basis, happy to share with her less fortunate countrymen. She looked on the happy faces around her, mothers with small children grateful for every last crumb. When she handed a five year old girl called Leandra a handful of dried raisins, a glass full of nuts in honey and a thick blanket, the girl hugged her tightly planting a wet kiss on her cheek and ran off to share it with her little brother standing shyly just a few steps away. Smiling, she thought of Anders.

_This is the only perk of my status I actually need._

…………………..

The Hanged Man – Varric’s suite

“So, Blondie, you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve managed to put your plan together on such a short notice. Everything is ready, waiting only for your signal.” Varric beamed contently, unable to suppress the excitement in his voice.

“Thanks a lot, I owe you one. So we’ll meet you there one hour before sunset. At least I hope so, you know, with Hawke, you never know. Plus I suspect she isn’t sitting in the house all day long, probably took off into the city. I can only hope she will return in time. Now I need to obtain some mysterious things for Sandal, Bodahn gave me a list, but I honestly have no clue what the hell some of the items are… sheep polisher? Am I supposed to steal a sheep and wash its woolen coat until it shines? Honestly dwarfs and their crazy stuff…”

Varric almost spat out his beer. “No, you idiot, it is a tiny cloth made of the finest wool… you can polish pretty much everything with it to a stunning effect. I use one on Bianca…” He sighed. “I guess you can borrow it… but watch Sandal, he might blow it in the air just saying “enchantment”.”

Looking a little uneasy all of the sudden Varric cleared his throat and watched Anders carefully. “Please don’t start to turn blue, I know you didn’t want to… but I took the liberty to inform the others – Aveline, Daisy, Broody and Rivaini… I just gave them the opportunity to come if they feel like it… I think Hawke would like them to be present… Hope you’re fine with it.”

Anders sighed, his hardly noticeable worry lines deepening a little. “Well I’m not gonna pretend I would ask them myself, but I suppose you’re right.”

The dwarf smiled contently. “Now off you go, my friend, I’m sure you need to prepare yourself.”

Anders was already halfway out of the door and called over his shoulder. “Thanks for everything, Varric.”

The jolly dwarf just waved him off. “Don’t mention it, Blondie. You saved my neck a few times anyway, so this is the least I can do.”

……………………………

Once he finally obtained all the items for Sandal, he sent the eldest of Tom’s sons to deliver it to him. Then he lit up the red lanterns and was kept pretty busy for four hours. The clinic was still packed with the injured from the Qunari attack, although most only came to be checked on, because he had already healed them yesterday.

His final patient for today was a tiny four year old boy, who came in to show him a flawlessly healed burned leg. As a thank you Anders was presented with a handful of golden raisins. He smiled and crouched down in front of the kid. “Thank you little champ, but you see, there are many raisins in the house I live in, so take these for yourself. In fact, have this apple, too.” As he gave the boy his last apple, he noticed a familiar crest sewn on the thick woolen blanket the kid was wearing like a cloak. Anders’ smile widened, realizing Lyra was rushing in to help the moment she could stand on her feet again.

_Lyra… yes._

As the boy happily hopped away, Anders blew out the red lanterns and shut the doors behind him. He poured some fresh water in the large basin on a side table and stripped all of his clothes. He washed himself the best he could, hissing a little when the cold water touched his sensitive parts. With the help of a large mug and some soap he washed his hair, brushed it out of his face but let it loose to dry up. He didn’t have such an expensive thing as a mirror here, but looking down his body, he noticed his recent weight loss. He hoped the fine pants wouldn’t fall off of his slender hips now.

Once cleaned and dressed up, he put on a battered black traveling cloak and pulled the hood in his eyes. He couldn’t risk any trouble going all the way through Kirkwall to the Hightown. And using the tunnel to the cellar of Lyra’s house wasn’t an actual option for today, he had a meeting with Bodahn in the Hightown market.

…………………..

Hawke’s estate

After returning from Darktown Lyra felt the urge to wash away all the sticky dirt and smell lingering in her hair. Plus she had to reluctantly admit her former strength wasn’t back yet. In the steaming tub she scrubbed herself carefully and washed her hair, wishing all the time it were Anders’ hands that touched her.

When the water was turning cold, Lyra got up, dried herself and put Anders’ worn shirt on. She loved the thing. It felt really soft, light and thin after all the years of wearing, the divine scent of elfroot, parchment, worn leather and her beloved man being a permanent part of the fabric itself.

She poured herself a glass of strong red wine and picked a novel about an Orlesian Bard called The Invisible Hand from her bookshelf. Isabella once brought it to her with a wicked expression on her face, calling it high quality literature. But as The Hawke clearly couldn’t be left alone without demands to solve either the petty or grave problems of Kirkwall, she didn’t get the chance to actually read and appreciate it.

So now she settled comfortably on the soft fur in front of the fireplace, with a glass of wine and Dog snuggled behind her. She opened the book and smiled to herself as the hundredth copy of Anders’ Manifesto fell down into her lap. She stood up, grabbed a pointed charcoal from her writing desk, returned to the ground and using the book an underlay, started to draw. Once satisfied with her work, she put it aside and opened the book to read it. It became clear what it was only after three pages. The Bard was clearly using his divine, and apparently very flexible body to climb up the social ladder as well as gain some intimidating knowledge about Orlesian nobility. She was about to toss it in the fire, yet surprisingly she actually enjoyed the dirty reading.

There was a particular scene involving some silk bandages, feathers and whipped cream that sent a blush into her cheek. As she pictured Anders and herself doing all the very expressively described things, her hand wandered down her body hesitantly…

Anders entered the main hall and started determinately to climb the steps to her bedroom. His plan was flawless, yet he couldn’t help but feel tiny butterflies in his stomach. What if she found it a silly notion, and laughed in his face?

_No Lyra wouldn’t do that… Just take her out as planned and ask her. You’ll see…_

He entered the bedroom and looked at the most beautiful scene he could imagine. Lyra was sitting in front of the burning fire, the dancing flames casting soft shadows all over her, and giving her hair a warm glow. She was wearing his old threadbare undershirt, her hand hastily withdrawn, was clearly were busy underneath it only a moment ago. Her rosy cheeks, quickly heaving breasts and a little guilty yet wanton expression betrayed her completely. Her other hand was holding a thin book, which she hastily covered with an illustrated copy of his Manifesto. _Oh screw the plan!_

“Marry me.”

 

 


	13. The Forever Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the smuttiest and sweetest chapter so far... you won't need sugar in your morning coffee :D but dark times are coming and I feel they deserve proper romance  
> NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soundtrack:  
> Bruno Mars - Marry you  
> Bryan Adams - I swear to you

_Marry me. Did he actually say that? Yes._

Her bright green eyes searched in his warm amber ones. And all the feelings she found there made her say…

“Yes.”

Anders expression wasn’t hard to read. Joy, love and passion. Oh so much passion in his handsome face. His lips curled up in a mischievous grin and he began to strip his clothes hastily. The worn travel cloak fall to the ground, revealing the simple but well fitted formal suit he was wearing to the disaster of a ball they attended ages ago.

Lyra raised her eyebrows dramatically. “Hey, mage, what’s up with the fancy clothes? Planning to attend a funeral or your former lover’s wedding?”

As his jacket hit the floor Anders chuckled. “Well, the wedding fits. It appears I’ve obtained an actual bride a moment ago. But I blew off the proposal scene, she caught me entirely off guard with her stunning beauty and sensual actions. But I’m going to do things as they should be...” He stripped his leather pants; the final piece of clothing as he didn’t bother wearing underwear most of the time. Standing all tall and gorgeous as the Maker made him, he winked at her endearingly, then bent down to search his discarded clothes for something.

Lyra watched very much amused as Anders, completely naked, got on his knees in front of her and with a badly suppressed smile presented a ring.

“Lyra Amellia Hawke, will you be my wife?”

She rose from the floor, crossed the few steps toward him and ran both hands through his loose soft hair letting them rest along his eager face. “I’m yours. Always.”

Anders took her left hand gently and placed the ring on her middle finger, kissing it all over. Then he nuzzled his face in between her breasts, his warm breath and body heat penetrating the thin fabric of the undershirt she was wearing, sending shivers over her skin, making her nipples pert and tingly. One of his hands traveled under the shirt to grab her firm buttocks, squeezing and caressing the flesh roughly.

“Haven’t you skipped a step messere? The wedding night usually follows the actual wedding here in Thedas. I don’t know about the Anderfels though…oh that feels so nice...” Lyra was suddenly very much distracted by his devoted treatment of her nipples. Even through the light fabric it felt so intense, as he ran over each one with his tongue and then sucked on them hungrily.

Anders stopped and looked up in her flushed face, noticing she was biting her lower lip in her excitement. “Ich werde enden ob du willst, meine Liebe. Trotzdem es wird ein grosser Schaden sein. Ich bin bereitet vor ficken dich ins Koma.”*

“Hm I have no idea what you just said, but I take my previous objections back.” Smiling, he pulled her down to him and devoured her lips, drawing her as close as he could.

Lyra felt so heavenly in his strong arms, his divine scent surrounding her completely, his well defined slender body, reminding her of a magnificent marble statue she saw somewhere a long time ago, his warm and soft skin calling to be kissed and caressed… she needed to feel all of that on her, without any obstacle in between them. Eagerly she removed her undershirt. The look of pure adoration on Anders’ face as he feasted on her exposed body made her lose all of the bashfulness and uncertainty about her scared appearance.

As if Anders was reading her mind, he sighed. “Oh Maker, you’re so beautiful.” And then it all became a blurred haze of passionate urgent touches, soft caresses, deep and hungry kisses. A moment later; or was it an hour? she was laying on the soft fur, her fast heaving breasts sensitive from the loving attention they received. She spread her legs wide, to invite him in. She couldn’t wait a minute longer, she needed him inside her pulsing and aching core, as deep as possible. Anders was propped on his elbows over her, kissing and licking the side of her neck under her left ear, while rubbing his magnificent hard cock against her oh so wet entrance. She grabbed his shoulders, even scratched them, driven by the urgency of her longing and wrapped her legs firmly around his slender hips. She let out a desperate moan, echoing like a divine music in her lover’s ears.

“Anders, take me.”

There was no need to tell him twice. He entered her in one fluid motion, then froze for a moment, savoring the intimate feeling of their joining. He kissed the tip of her cute nose lovingly and aimed for her lips right afterwards. As his eager tongue explored her mouth, Anders began to move inside her slowly. Lyra followed his motions enthusiastically, returning his passionate kisses. They quickened their pace gradually, oblivious to the outer world. There was nothing else for them, only the beloved person in their arms and a strong desire to merge with each other.

And then Lyra fell into a complete darkness, her limbs became numb and heavy, all of her attention directed to her contracting center, feeling every spasm as a sparkling explosion inside of her. From a confusingly wide distance she heard Anders content moans and felt his cock starting to pulse and erupt with the exquisite life-giving liquid. A moment later a pleasant weight crashed down on her, and her utterly spent beloved nuzzled his face in between her breasts, whispering grateful and loving words against her skin.

 

…………………..      

Lyra was resting, comfortably propped against Anders chest, admiring her new ring closely. It was a simple thing. Perfect; made of gold with bright green, rectangular stone.

The blonde mage took her hand in his. “I wanted to buy you a rare jewel as a reminder of my feelings for you, but being an apostate healer surprisingly isn’t the best carrier for spoiling any woman. So I went to the beach, where we had such wonderful time the other day and search it for the prettiest stone. I tripped over a sharp rock, cut my toes a bit, I hopped on one leg cursing like a maniac, but before I managed to heal myself, I saw this, and I knew it belonged to you.”

Lyra smiled happily. “I love it! Why does it feel warm to touch?”

“Well, I gave it to Sandal, explaining the design and material I wanted to use. He worked on it for a while joyfully muttering “enchantment”. Then he pulled on my coat and when I bent down to his level he actually pulled out a few of my precious hairs, can you believe it? Back at his desk he screamed “enchantment” once more, there was a tiny explosion and voila, your ring was made.”

Lyra sit up and turned to face him. “So Sandal made it… but what does it do? I mean it certainly isn’t just a piece of jewellery if Sandal was hopping around it…”

Anders chuckled merrily. “Well, I don’t have a clue, love… but I think “enchantment” is a safe bet.”

“Fine messere smarty pants… so what’s your plan? Gonna kidnap the Grand cleric to marry us in the cellar?”

“Well I thought about that… but no. I’m sorry, love, given your status and my cursed existence, there’s no way to make it official. Nevertheless, we will get married. Just instead of some pretentious gibbering idiot of a cleric, there will be Varric instead… and if I’m not mistaken he is already on his way to the place we agreed upon.”

Lyra raised her eyebrows dramatically and pouted her lips. “I see you were pretty confident I’d say yes.” She dropped the act, leaned down to him and whispered against his lips. “And you were damn right to do so.” The kiss that followed sent them spiralling down toward the blissful oblivion of their touches. Reluctantly Anders broke the kiss, sighing against hers divine lips. “We better stop this, or we’ll never leave this fur again.”

“Right, so what should I wear? I mean I don’t have many fancy pieces in my dresser… mostly leathers and furs, you know…”

“Well I like you in leathers and furs actually, but you can wear the black and pink dress. It’s almost as nice as Isabella’s nightgown, and I also recall some pleasant memories seeing it.” Anders answered while putting on his discarded clothes.

“Actually I know for sure Isabella always sleeps naked…” Lyra called out from her bathroom, where she was washing her face and trying to tame her wild long waves of shiny black hair.

In an instant, long delicate fingers started to braid her tresses while a seductive voice whispered in her ear. “You know for sure? Have you been naughty, my Champion?”

Lyra stretched out in a catlike manner, very well aware of the distracting effect her graceful moves had on Anders. “Hmmm I’m tempted to say “yes” just to see your reaction… but I have to confess; I reserve all my naughtiness for a certain blonde mage.”

A warm hand gently palmed her breast. “The blonde mage demands a demonstration.”

 

……………………..

Half an hour later, two cloaked figures and a magnificent mabari were crossing the Hightown market in haste. The smaller one was giggling like a little girl every now and then, whereas the tall man was humming a soft tune. Both were keeping their hooded heads down, trying to go unnoticed and froze on the spot, as an unpleasantly shrill female voice called out loudly.

“Messere Hawke! Champion! Wait a moment, I’m in dire need of your assistance!”

“Fuck, how did she know it was me?” Lyra sweared unnecessarily loud and looked up at Anders.

He made a step back to take in her appearance and chuckled. “Well next time you want to go incognito I suggest you leave your family cloak behind. There’s a rather distinctive Hawke family crest on your back. Plus, Dog isn’t particularly inconspicuous either.

Lyra hissed, grabbed his hand and dove into the crowd, stopping a moment later behind a large broken stall to turn the cloak upside down.

“Oh the bright red silk lining is much more subtle love.” Anders couldn’t help to stay serious, she was always so adorable when she was fuming like this. “Ah shut up or I won’t marry you, you ridiculously handsome joker.” With a suppressed grin she pulled him down for a quick kiss and then they ran hand in hand, as fast as they could through the thick crowd, Dog leading the way out.         

 

……………………………..

They managed to get away from the city without anymore trouble and headed straight for the beach. A slim armored figure appeared on the road, and stepped in their way.

“Fenris.”

“Anders.”

Both men greeted each other coldly, the animosity palpable in the air, but they maintained decorum, at least for the moment.

“I’m standing guard here, to divert anyone away from the beach.” The white-haired elf warrior informed Lyra in his velvety low voice. “I won’t pretend I understand this, but you seem happy. I will say no more.”

She gave him one of her most radiant smiles and squeezed his forearm in a affectionate gesture. “Thank you Fenris, you’re a true friend.” The elf smiled, a rare sight even for his closest companions, and indicated his head in the right direction. Lyra hopped down the narrow path towards the beach. As Anders was passing by, Fenris grabbed his arm firmly.

“Take care of her, mage, or I swear I’ll rip your heart out.”

Anders yanked his arm out of the warrior’s strong grasp and hissed an angry response. “So much for staying out of this. Leave us alone.”

 

……………….

In the far corner of the beach a strange, small gathering could be spotted. The slowly setting Sun and a few torches stuck in the sand lit up the friendly faces. Placed upon a sea-worn rock was a large bouquet of roses and lavender. A sparsely dressed pirate, her ample bosoms threatening to break free, a tall red-headed female warrior with an oddly silly smile, and a nervously fidgeting slender elf girl were standing near it. Behind stood a jovially beaming dwarf, holding a dark red velvety ribbon in his calloused hand. As a black haired petite woman in black and pink evening gown, walking hand in hand with a tall dark blonde man approached, the elf started to sing a soft melody, the words in her mother tongue strange yet beautiful sounding in everybody's ears.

Passing the singer, Lyra smiled reassuringly at her, then returned the amused grin to the pirate and noded solemnly to the warrior. The couple took their places in front of the improvised altar, Anders, unable to resist, started to kiss her passionately, only to be interrupted by a loud dramatic cough from Varric.

“Dearly beloved, we have gathered here today to unite this….” He threw his hands up in a resigned gesture. “Oh shit I can't do it like this! So Hawke I see Blondie managed to completely charm you by his insanely complicated personality and fine hair. I imagine he has some hidden skills, that…”

“Varric! This is no laughing matter! You’re being inappropriate!” Aveline hissed under her breath, her red ponytail shaking furiously. The whole situation made Lyra burst into a laughing fit, which resolved into loud hiccups.

“Fine, I’ll just wait for the Champion of Kirkwall to stop the sublime sounds she’s making, and I’ll proceed with all dignity.”

Lyra finally managed to catch her breath, wiped tears from her eyes and winked at amused Anders. “I’m ready messere Tethras.”

“As you wish. Actually it is your turn to speak, the whole point of this wedding is for you to exchange vows in front of witnesses. The lady goes first.”

“Oh shit I haven’t thought of that!” Lyra bit her lower lip, suddenly feeling nervous and insecure. But Anders gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look up in his loving eyes.

“That’s fine love. I’ll go first.” He kissed the tip of her nose and took both her hands in his, brushing each of her backhand with his sensual lips. Standing tall and proud in front of her he locked her gaze.

“Lyra Amellia Hawke, from the memorable day you had stepped in my clinic door, I was not able to stop thinking about you. You make me smile, you suffer my moods and all the strange aspects of my very being with unwavering kindness, you understand me like no other. But even if you didn’t care about me, I would still love you. I was, am and will ever be your devout man. This I swear to you, my love.”

The sincere smile he gave her touched her very heart, she imprinted the image in her memory, a precious moment to lighten up whatever darkness their uncertain future will bring. Lyra searched her now surprisingly fogged and empty mind, for the right words to express her feelings. She stood up on her tiptoes and caressed his cheeks gently.

“I swear I love you and am here for you until the day I die. I’m your woman.”

Anders hugged her waist tightly and claimed her lips to seal the deal. Varric chuckled loudly. “I’m pretty sure you’re oblivious to the outside world, nevertheless I pronounce you, Anders and Lyra Amellia Hawke, husband and wife. And I will hold you to the promises you’ve made here in front of the witnesses. Could you just separate long enough for me to tie your hands with this symbolic ribbon thingy?”

Never breaking the kiss, both offered their arms to him, and the dwarf entwined the ribbon in between their fingers. “Be happy my friends.” Both smiled against each others busy lips, and closed the embrace again.   

“Oh aren’t you two the sweetest in all the lovely Kirkwall! Stop devouring each other, it’s time for presents!” Isabella shouted out loud, to make sure they heard her. Then she approached them, looking very pleased with herself, holding out a small red silk sack. The couple finally broke free, Lyra untied the ribbon and peaked inside.

“Oh this is probably the most inappropriate wedding gift, I’ve ever seen! But I expected nothing less from you! Transparent red underwear thingy, silk ropes, a tiny leather whip, rose scented oil and what’s this tiny metal ball?”

“That is a pretty rare thing actually, just insert it inside your pussy and you’ll see.” Isabella winked at her mischievously.

“Maker shut up you pirate whore, that is way beyond inappropriate! Please Hawke, toss it away.” Aveline simply couldn’t hold in her disgust.

Before Lyra could react, Anders grabbed the sack with a wicked smile. “I think we'll keep it. Besides it would be rude to reject our first wedding gift.”

Merrill gave them a little wooden statue of a magnificent flying hawk, with many unnecessary apologies, as it was really very thoughtful and beautiful. Aveline said blushing slightly, she was going to send her gift to the estate.

“As I’ve already given you the immortal glory in my set-piece, I don’t see a need for another gift. But my generosity is endless and I throw in an open account at Hanged Man.”

“Varric, I don’t drink!” Anders pouted, pretending to be deeply hurt. “Then you should start, Blondie!” Varric nodded towards to city. “And I think it is time to move this party there, in my very own well supplied suite. Right, Hawke?”

Lyra looked up to her brand new husband. “Well, actually, I was going to suggest you and I stay here and Varric take the girls to spend some of my money.” Anders nodded, a happy smile spread over his face. “That was my plan all along, love.”

 

…………………..

Once they were alone, Anders pulled out a large wooden box hidden behind a few rocks. Peeking inside it, Lyra smiled. “Oh, my new husband is so thoughtful.”

“Yeah well, he didn’t want to sleep in the sand and take his marital rights on an empty stomach.” He hugged her from behind, palming her breasts teasingly through the light silk of her gown. “Hmm… did I mention I really love this dress?” He got down on his knees behind her, to have better access to the high slash revealing her left thigh almost to her slender waist. Slowly he dragged his left hand along her inner leg, leaving a tingly path, causing Lyra shiver and moan silently.

A loud but friendly bark from nearby patrolling Dog ended their intimate moment abruptly. Fenris was walking down the narrow path towards them, carrying two dusty bottles. “Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to give you this wine. It’s pretty decent. I discovered Danarius’ second level wine cellar. So, enjoy. I’ll head back to Kirkwall, I think Dog will watch over you just fine.”

Grateful for the slowly falling darkness to hide her deep blush Lyra took the wine from her strange yet dear companion. “Thank you very much for everything, Fenris.”

The white haired elf nodded and head back toward Kirkwall, unsure if he wanted to join the others at the Hanged Man.

Turning around, Lyra saw Anders tangled in ropes and canvas, trying to erect the little tent he brought for them. Suppressing laugh with great difficulty, she asked. “And why actually did I marry such a ham-fisted man?”

The tall mage stopped his futile attempts, standing proud in the mess. “Because he is irresistibly handsome and can endure your cooking.” They burst in wonderfully freeing laughter, then worked together to erect the tent. Lyra pointed and directed Anders, occasionally distracting him with kisses and tickling him under his working arms.

Once their temporaly bedroom was standing and stuffed with blankets, candles, food and wine, the petite Champion decided to go for an evening swim. She loved the feeling of lightness, the gentle way the water was rippling and caressing her skin. Swimming always cleared her head, she felt so pleasantly empty, focused only on her breathing and smooth movements through the pure smelling water. But Anders was not very fond of the sea, she even wasn’t sure he could swim.

“Husband, can you at least try once and go with me? You don’t know what you’re missing! I can even teach you an easy, effective swimming style.” She had to tread carefully, Anders could be a little prickly sometimes.

But the mage only chuckled. “Oh, my naive wife, you have no idea about my swimming skills. You should ask the Templars from Fereldan’s Circle about one of my glorious escapes.”

She was surprised, the sudden revelation of his colorful past stung a little, reminding her there was a great deal to learn about her chosen man. But she would be more than happy to discover all his little secrets in the years to come. She silenced the little voice in her head, reminding her of their uncertain future, today she decided to be a happy and careless bride.

“Then come with me to prove it!” She ran toward the calmly moving waves, wriggling out of her dress hastily along the way.

Naked in the already brightly shining full moon, she dove in, a pleasant shiver running through her body from the refreshingly cool water. Setting up a steady pace, she looked over her shoulder, but Anders was nowhere in sight. She screamed as a strong arm entwined her waist from below. He had noiselessly jumped in and swam under her to catch her off guard. Emerging gracefully from the water, Anders held her close to him while effortlessly treading water.

“Let’s go someplace we can reach the bottom, I have other activities in mind. Much more exciting than a swimming race.”

Swimming in long effective strokes he guided her not far ahead, toward an old wooden dock, stuck only a few inches out, almost touching the water-table. Her feet hit the sandy bottom, the water level at her breastbone. The intense and hungry look he gave her turned Lyra’s knees into jelly. Her breasts were rising up and down in vastly increasing speed, there was no hiding her arousal. Anders pulled her as close as possible, relishing the feeling of her body pressed against his. Blood rushing inevitably to his hardening cock, urging him to sheathe it in the exquisite, tight and inviting pink center between her legs. _Hold it you smitten fool, build her craving for you slowly to the point, where it will touch the line to insanity. Claim her divine lips first… good, you see, she is opening for you, eager to follow your guidance and explore on her own._

Their tongues danced passionately, tasting each other, licking theirs lover’s lips, their appetite building with every contact. Anders broke the kiss, earning a desperate moan from Lyra, shortly followed by a startled gasp, as he lifted her on the edge of the dock, pushing her thighs open as wide as possible _. And now I will make you scream my name!_

Tracing a path up along the inner side of her legs he place as many tiny kisses as possible down from her waist, slowly approaching his glorious prize. First he nuzzled his face into the curly black hair covering her sex, slowly opening his mouth to let his skilled tongue out. He dragged it over the tiny spot just above her swollen clit, where the pink sensitive skin of her inner folds first emerged from its thicker cover. The wanton moan escaping Lyra’s throat confirmed the desired effect of his actions. As he moved to lick her throbbing clit agonizingly slow, his hands traveled up, palming her perfect breasts, running thumbs over the hardened nipples.

_Oh Maker, this feels so good, I could melt under his teasingly light touches. Anders, I can’t take it much longer._

He felt her blood running and pulsing in her clit, she locked her legs under his arms, arched her back and rocked her hips toward him, her movement chasing the only goal, the freeing release of the overwhelming pressure. Her throat was dry from the incoherent moaning. _Time to let you explode, my wife!_

Anders ran his index finger along her slit a few times, indicating his next step. Pushing it in her welcoming center, he let out a sparkling impulse, to hit the exact spot on her upper wall. In the same moment he made a particularly lavish lick over her clit, and felt very pleased as her insides started to contract around his finger.

“Anders.” Lyra breathed out his name almost inaudibly, her eyes blind to the outer world, projecting only tiny sparks on a velvety black background.

It took a while to came back from the unearthly and mind-blowing orgasm. Suddenly a chill ran through her, covering her naked wet body with goosebumps, even making her teeth clatter.

“Oh love, I’m such a fool, you must be terribly cold!” Anders pulled himself quickly up on the dock, gathered her in his arms and carried her into the tent. Once snuggled comfortably next to her, he let the warm energy flow from his palm and traced lines along her pale cold skill, waking up the blood circulation. The moment her cheeks were pink again, Lyra grabbed his shoulders urgently, digging her nails into his skin, not caring if she left imprints.

“Claim me, husband!” Her voice came out raspy and low and above all wanton.

_I most certainly will!_

He placed his now almost painfully aroused cock to her slick entrance and push inch by inch into her, looking for any signs of discomfort, from his size. When he hit the farthest reaches of her, they both let out a satisfied moan.

Then Anders pulled quickly out of her hungry center, flipped her over to her stomach and entered her in one fluid motion from behind. He propped himself on his arms above her back, his well formed biceps holding him aloft effortlessly. Kissing her between her shoulder blades each time he plunged into her depths, continually building a faster pace. Lyra felt like a rag doll. No, actually, she was liquid. She was rippling around Anders, each of his thrusts sent her in waves and ripples towards the approaching waterfall. And when she was hurtling over the edge, down into the open air, she was weightless, disintegrated into billions of tiny droplets. She saw glimpses of sharply colored rainbows, dancing inside or outside of her? All of the sudden she was pulled to Anders, back inside her ecstatic body.

“Lyra…” Her name was the only thing he was able to utter, while shivering uncontrollably, the pulses of his cock flooding Lyra inside with the warm liquid. Afterward he moved sideways, probed himself on one elbow and started to paint invisible yet very sensual lines with his fingertips. Lyra moved her back to follow his caressing touches, almost purring like a content cat. 

Anders smiled at her lovingly, “So far, I do love my married life.”

  


*If that is what you want, I will stop, my love. This is a shame really, because I’m ready to fuck you comatose.

 

 

      

            

           

  

 

          

 


	14. The Revealing Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After publishing this chapter, I realized it was not as it should be. So this is a rewrite.
> 
> Lyra is having fun with Bella, Vengeance is a Buzzkill, tissues necessary ;)
> 
> Soundtrack: Adele - Set Fire to the Rain
> 
> Special thanks to the witty HQuinn for beta, brilliant Domileen for inspiration and as always my dear editor and counselor TurboNerd :)

Returning from the beach (now called the Sexy Sands by Anders) they were greeted heartily by Bodahn and Sandal, who hopped around and wished them “Enchantment” for lifetime, beaming at the ring he made sparkling on Lyra’s finger. She tried to ask him, what does it do, but he just kept pointing at Anders.

“There’s a package for you at your desk, messere. I don’t want to pry, but should I call you by another name from now on?”

“Ha, Bodahn, thanks for bringing that up! Husband, do you have a family name.... Actually what is your true first name? I might reconsider my vows if your name is something disgusting or childish. Are you a Peter or Dieter? Nugeater?”

Anders was watching her, a little taken aback by her sudden interest in his past, which he worked hard to bottle up and leave behind. “Don’t waste time, love. I’m a low born, fancy family names are only for sweet  highborn ladies like you and spoiled noble boys.”

“Are you calling me a sweet lady?” Lyra punched him playfully in the shoulder and pouted.

“Ouch! No! Obviously you’re a spoiled boy! Come here, you little rascal.” He hugged her tight, ignoring her attempts to kick and wriggle away.

“Oh don’t you dare run away from the subject! I demand to know my husband’s true name! I will probably call you Anders or maybe a Yummy Tushie for the rest of our life, but I would really like to know your past better.”

She tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, but she wanted to know. Anders acted mostly carefree in her presence, but there were moments the smile appeared to be a mask. She knew he was hurting inside and it made her desperate to know why, so she could help him. She felt every piece of his past to be part of the puzzle, and if only she could gather enough pieces, she would see the whole picture clearly. She would understand him better.

“Love, I really don’t see the point of digging up the past, what matters is the present and the future. Besides, I was Anders when I first met you, and that makes it the only name I want.” He kissed her forehead to indicate the end of discussion on that subject.

Lyra felt as if she had been slapped. How could he dismiss her so matter-of-factly? Did she overstep? Is she forbidden to ask about his past from now on and only wait for him to share of his own free will?  _ Hush silly, you’re overreacting! _

Didn’t he tell her about Karl? That confession wasn’t easy to make, and of course they’ve discussed Justice a great deal. Although she had so many questions about the spirit, some of them even Anders couldn’t answer to her full satisfaction. There’s nothing left to do but wait for him to open up.  _ Fuck! Maker knows she is everything but patient! _

So she shrugged her shoulders to a slightly embarrassed Bodahn and headed toward her desk to open a neatly wrapped small parcel. Inside was a letter from Aveline and a little highly polished wooden box.

_ Hawke, _

_ I wanted to give you this in person, but as you very well know, I’m not good at expressing my feelings. In the box you’ll find a medallion, which Wesley gave me as a wedding gift. I can’t wear it anymore, though he will always have a place in my heart. I’m leaving him in the past, to build a new life with Donnic. I would very much like to give it to you. It represents love, respect and devotion. These are your finest qualities and I really hope Anders does deserve you. I took the liberty of drawing simple portraits of you two, it is the only ladylike activity I’m actually good at. Be happy, you deserve it. _

_ Aveline Vallen        _

Lyra opened the simple silver medallion and held her breath. In the two tiny frames were perfect miniatures of her and Anders, looking lovingly at each other. Anders peeked over her shoulder.

“Look at me! So handsome! And you ain’t looking so bad either! Let me!” He placed the locket on her heart, fastening its fine chain on the back of her neck, ruffling her hair lightly in the process. He bent down and started to kiss the side of her neck, which sent pleasant shivers along her spine immediately.

“Hm, I better leave before this gets out of hand. I need to go to the clinic for a few hours, I have a number of chronic patients who need their regular potions and salves. I’ll be back before you start to miss me.” And he headed to the secret passage down in her cellar.

Lyra squeezed the medallion in her hand with a sad smile on her lips.  _ I miss you already, you fool. _

Suddenly the house felt empty and dark. She could go to the Hanged Man and let Varric or Isabella entertain her, but she was in no mood for their teasing company. The joy and excitement filling her on the beach were replaced with unreasonable melancholy and anxiety about their future. Her shoulders became so heavy on her way up to the master bedroom, she gripped the railing shakily. As she passed her mother’s room, her throat tightened. She opened the door hesitantly, and for the first time since her mother’s death, she stepped over the threshold.

Everything was as she remembered. The tasteful floral bedding, her brushes and hair accessory beside the mirror, a wardrobe full of nice dresses and fine shoes. Two books and a frame with a charcoal sketch of their entire family Bethany drew for her years ago were on the nightstand. Tears welled in Lyra’s eyes. She missed them all so much, despite her happiness with Anders, his care and love made her forget… but then there were moments she felt abandoned and responsible for their too early departures. If only Bethany could be here, living with her!  _ Fuck the Chantry and Templars! _

The room suddenly felt too small, all the overwhelming memories made her literally sick with grief, her stomach threatened to turn up and she was gasping for air. She bolted for the door, slammed it firmly behind her and leaned on the opposite wall, trying to block the despair and guilt away. Once her breathing normalized, she dragged herself the few steps towards her room. The huge soft bed calling to her, she whistled to Dog and curled beside him on the pleasantly scented, silk sheets. His steady breathing, body heat and regular heartbeat calmed her down.  _ Get it together, Hawke! _

She must have dozed off a bit, as a light knock on the door startled her from an exhausted  slumber. She slept quite a long while, though it felt only like a very short and insufficient moment to her. Lyra sighed. Apparently there would be no rest or alone time today. “Come in.”

The pirate stepped in, swaying her magnificent hips, mischief shining from her dark eyes. “Oh, I thought I would need to wrestle you from Anders’ possessive arms, and here you are, snuggling with the smelly dog.” Taking in the gloom written in Lyra’s face, Isabella furrowed her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Get up, sweetie, I’m taking you someplace nice and fun.”

“Bella, I really don’t want…”

“Oh it’s non-negotiable. Get up or I’ll release some pretty nasty rumours about your sexual preferences. Chop, chop get up and make yourself presentable, Champion.”

“Fine, fine, I’m going! Just give me a moment!” Why can’t she just wait here for Anders? And where exactly is Isabella taking her? She grabbed a random pair of leather pants and a clean loose shirt from the wardrobe and headed to the bathroom to wash and attempt to tame her unruly black hair.

A moment later she joined Isabella, who forced a glass of her own strong, emergency brandy into her hand. “Drink it, it’ll help to get rid of your gloomy gloom. I really don’t care for it.” Lyra emptied the glass with a mildly annoyed smirk and they headed for the door. She reached for her usual long cloak with the family crest on its back.

“Sweetie, wear something less noticeable, will you?” Isabella picked out a simple black leather long overcoat and handed it to Lyra. “Here.”

“Fine, I just hope you aren’t taking me on a ship, I don’t wanna get sick on it and get seagull shit in my hair.” She fastened her daggers to the belt around her hips, hiding them from sight. If Bella wanted her inconspicuous, she couldn’t wear them on her back. They were quite unique and already well known all around Kirkwall. “When will I be back?”

Isabella leaned closer to her ear and whispered in her most seductive low voice. “Sweetheart, it could be hours…”

“Oh Maker, this keeps getting better and better. Fine, I’ll just leave a note for Anders, if he gets back sooner.” She scribbled few words on a small parchment and sighed. “Which is doubtful, to say the least.”

Isabella linked arms with her and led the way. “Oh don’t worry about your fancy new man, we can have a good time, just us ladies. I owe you a spectacular ‘goodbye freedom party.’”

Lyra frowned at her companion. “Oh shit, I knew the wedding would have its price.”

……………………..

Isabella was chatting merrily, keeping Lyra occupied. She had not been paying attention to their surroundings. When they arrived in front of a little house in the Red lantern district, Lyra was caught of guard.

“What’s this place? I thought we were going to the Hanged Man? Bella, tell me we’re not breaking and entering someone’s home to steal a few bottles of wine?”

The pirate unlocked the door with a small key, very much out of her usual lockpicking routine, and pushed Lyra inside unceremoniously. “Oh don’t worry, Hawke, I’ve a  _ willing _ consent from the owner to use it for this special night. Follow me, sweetheart.”

Isabella’s excitement was contagious and Lyra found herself looking around the house with growing interest and eagerly awaiting whatever was coming next. They entered a small hall furnished with simple-yet-sturdy pieces, all surfaces clean and shiny, pillows and comfortable chairs inviting to sit in. From one of them a slender elf shot up and gave Lyra a charming, friendly smile. “Welcome, messere.”

Isabella patted the girl’s shoulder, leaned toward her, and they exchanged a few whispered words. The girl winked at Lyra and disappeared behind one of the three doors. “Here, Hawke, first we drink.” Isabella shoved yet another generously filled glass of fine looking brandy in her hand, urging her to swallow it all. It was fine indeed. It warmed her insides pleasantly and lifted her spirits a bit.

“Is there someone else coming?” It would be nice after all, to sit here with Bella, Varric and Merrill, suddenly she craved friendly company.

“No, they are all upstairs in the bedroom, waiting for you. Here, we’ll have another round and then go for it.” The pirate winked at Lyra. She felt a bit worried. Isabella was a force of nature, well known for her debauch lifestyle.  _ Just go and see, it might be innocent. _

But of course it wasn’t! Upstairs, Isabella introduced her to four elite whores; a fair blond girl with nice round breasts, a bronze Antivan man with disturbingly white teeth, and two elves; a tiny girl with ginger hair and warm golden eyes and an agile boy with well formed muscles under a complicated tattoo spreading over his chest. They all smiled pleasantly, dressed only in light, transparent undershirts, leaving nothing for her imagination.  _ Oh fuck, what did I get into? _

“So which one caught your eye? Or maybe you could try them all? You see, in Rivain we women are powerful and we enjoy life to the fullest. Now, you might dedicate yourself to Anders for eternity, but you deserve one last free night of joyful and thorough exploration of your sexuality. Here, I brought the bag of the nice gadgets I gave you, so you can test them. It would be a waste to leave it locked out in your nightstand.”

“I don’t remember giving you permission to practise your lockpicking skills around my house. You can’t do that to your friends, especially the married ones.”

Isabella continued to smile graciously, playing with the almost empty glass in her hand.

_ Oh Maker, how do I get out? I don’t have the strength to argue about this folly.  _ She looked around the room and saw an opened door into a small bathroom with a narrow window. “Ehm, I need a moment.” Grabbing the half-empty bottle and the naughty sack she closed the door behind her. She sat on the edge of a generous bathtub and took a deep swig of the brandy. It started to run warmly in her veins, creeping slowly into her head lighting her buzzing mind.  _ Damn, get out before you get wasted and lose all inhibitions! _

She stood up, opened the small window noiselessly and looked to the safely closed door. Her gaze lingered on the silky bag she left on a tiny counter with candles and scented oils. A crazy thought crossed her brandy soaked mind.  _ Na...ah, that’s so bad… bad Lyra… let it go! _ Shaking her head vigorously she made an attempt for the window.  _ Oh fuck it! _

She grabbed the sack and pulled a tiny silver ball out of it. It was shiny and completely smooth. As she moved it around her palm, the tiny objects inside caused the whole thing to vibrate, sending tingly sensations into its surroundings. She took a deep breath, untied her leather pants and with a long exhale pushed the thing inside of herself. Last swig from the bottle and she was out of the window, balancing on a narrow ledge.  _ Oh fuck, I can’t jump from this height!I  _

The brandy voice in her head told her otherwise. She crouched down and leaned her upper body again in the bathroom, grabbed the window sill and let her legs down, into the air, slowly sliding after them, holding on as long as she could. Then she dropped down. She planned to land on her feet of course, but somehow ended up on her ass instead. “Fuuuuck!”

She couldn’t hold it inside, all her quick motions set the ball into wild action. She panted, her breathing became heavier, shivers running through her violently. It wouldn’t take long for her to come. Right there on the streets. People were passing by, a mixture of sailors and badly concealed nobles heading for the Blooming Rose to spend some gold on whores. She searched for cover, it won’t do to be seen with her hand searching in between her legs for the devilish… or divine? Instrument.

……………………………..

Anders left his clinic unexpectedly quick. Anna; a bright girl Lirenne recommended to him as an occasional helper, proved to be very efficient and smart. She made all the potions and salves his chronic patients needed and even visited them to check whether or not their state worsened. She left a detailed note about her shift on the desk. For the acute emergency, there was no one besides a small boy with broken arm. He healed the kid, made him smile with a silly joke and sent him on his way. As he straightened up his desk, the huge grey and white cat wandered in, nuzzling against his leg, as if it wanted to check if he was alright. He bent down and stroked its silky coat, smiling at its loud purring. The noise and tiny vibration always relaxed him, he wished to take it to Lyra’s, but knew better than to rob the cat of its freedom and inflict the smelly dog upon it. “Champ, I have to go, but I’ll be back tomorrow with your favorite fish, alright? I trust Anna fed you while I was gone.”

He straightened up, stretched his back and headed toward the door, pleased to see the cat curled up in his cot in the back of the clinic. He decided against taking the shortcut through the cellar, he wanted to check with Anna about his patients and thank her for the help before things become hectic again. She lived in a tiny house in Lowtown near the Hanged Man, where she occasionally filled in for the regular bartender when he was absent. 

Putting his long legs into good use he was almost there when he heard a muffled scream from a dark side-alley. His heart skipped a beat and without hesitation he ran to help. An angry hiss parted his lips as he saw two huge thugs advancing on terrified Anna, the smaller one already holding her wrists tightly behind her back. The bigger brute clutched her tiny precious bracelet, the only nice thing she owned; a memory of her mother… “We need more from you than just this trinket, girl! Coins!” 

Anders reached automatically for his staff. But there was nothing on his back. Realizing he left it at Lyra’s, following her wish to lay low and don’t attract Templars more than was necessary, he cursed under his breath. “Fuck!”

He didn’t really need it for healing, but to fight empty handed would be dangerous. He wouldn’t be able to direct the spells with his usual precision, not without the risk of hitting the girl. Nonetheless, he had to defeat them, but first get Anna out of the upcoming fight. Seeing the two of them fiercely arguing about the bracelet, he seized the moment and kicked the one holding Anna hard in his kidneys. The man let out a painful scream and felt to his knees, releasing the girl in the process. Anders grabbed her hand roughly, and shoved her behind himself. “Run!” He managed to bark out before the horde of muscle was upon him.

The familiar voice in his head commanded,  _ Mind Blast! And let me take care of them! _

_ No! Not here, not today! _

The defensive spell bought him a few seconds, and he backed away quickly, hoping they wouldn’t pursue. Justice didn’t agree. Justice had to have vengeance. They will pay. Anders started to lose control, fighting the spirit with determination. No matter what he did, how he tried to reason with him, Justice - his permanent companion turned once again into Vengeance.

Anders felt as though his head was about to explode, filled only with furious hateful screams and hot rage. He couldn’t see his surroundings anymore, the dark alley, the two villains, Anna…. all outside sounds were overruled by Vengeance’s terrible shouts. Flashes of bloody red, venomous yellow and ominous pitch black were changing fast before his eyes, the speed increasing to the point of driving him crazy. And then finally he was out of control. Gone…

_ Heavy.  _ His entire body felt intact, but oh so heavy.

_ Cold and hard.  _ The stone beneath him felt good, solid.

_ Wet.  _ The rainy drops were traveling down his nose, into his open mouth, moistening his dry lips, washing away the sweat from his feverish brow.

He tried to remember what happened.  _ Oh no, not again! What have I become? What have I done? Scheisse! _

Running his hand over his face into his wet hair, his fingers felt sticky. And yes, that familiar scent. The scent of fresh blood. Painfully he sat up and looked around, his heart anxiously racing in his chest, a sick feeling growing in his stomach. The two men were no more. Their bloody bits covered every surface in a wide radius, flesh, skin, bones, torn up insides… a great number covered in a black charred crust, thin wisps of white smoke rising up to meet the rain and dissipate.  _ Stand up! Make a step! Another… and run for it! _

The rain poured down and fogged his vision, no wonder he bumped into a huge warrior on his headlong flight from the scene of his crime. Miraculously he managed to keep his footing, and rush past the figure, only to be hit with a powerful Cleanse just before he could put a safe distance between them. Anders felt nauseous, stumbled and looked briefly over his shoulder. Cullen Fucking Rutherford was storming after him in all his templar heavy finery. So he ran. It was the only sensible thing to do… or was it?

_ Just drink the mana potion hidden in your belt and kill the Knight-Captain! No one will ever know….  _ Justice was whispering in his head, his voice becoming louder and louder with every step he put between the Templar and himself.

“Mage!... Stop!... You’re under arrest!” Cullen’s deep voice boomed loudly, the clatter of his armor audible just a few steps behind him.

_ Keep running, just keep running! _ Anders couldn’t focus on anything else besides putting one leg before the other and flying through Lowtown as quickly as he ever ran. He wasn’t sure why, but he just couldn’t let Vengeance kill Cullen. Back in Amaranthine his petite Warden - Commander Callista (her title still felt odd, as he remembered her covered in porridge running through the Circle’s kitchens) told him what happened as she was saving the Tower from Uldred and his blood mages. The torture Cullen endured must have been terrible. Killing him just because he happened to stumble into the wrong place at the wrong time would only add another deed to the already heavy weight on his conscience.

_ Kill the Templar! Or he will surely kill you and other mages! _

_ No!... just keep running...  _ __

Finally his long legs, lighter build and lack of heavy armor paid off, Cullen was panting way behind him. Anders dove behind a fountain, realising he automatically directed his flight toward Lyra’s estate and was in the middle of Hightown market. The heavy rain forced the merchants to close their stalls, only a few hooded figures going quickly about their business could be seen in an otherwise thickly crowded area. He waited a moment before straightening warily up. The thick rain curtain muffled any sound around him, as well as blurred his vision significantly. He dared to dive his head into the fountain to wash away all the blood and bits of flesh still sticking to his skin despite the rain, and ruffled his hair furiously to clean it. When he emerged, he felt better, stronger and less trapped. Justice backed away a little and he had a moment to think clearly. Maybe Cullen didn’t even recognise him! If he did, he would call him by name, wouldn’t he?  _ Maybe this will end here with no more nasty consequences!           _

Feeling a bit better, he headed towards Lyra’s estate. Hopefully she’ll be out, drinking with Varric or Bella at the Hanged Man, so he could patch himself up a bit, maybe even have a hot bath before she returns.

…………………………………

Lyra wished she could magically disappear in a pink puff of smoke and reemerge instantly in the privacy of her bedroom. There was no way she could get home with that tiny mischievous thing between her legs, before she crumbled to the cobblestones and thrashed through the spasms of a powerful orgasm.  _ Why oh why can’t I act like an adult! Crazy, stupid…. oh, brilliant! It’s raining! _

She hid behind a pile of wooden boxes and barrels, probably full of wares for one of the market stalls. And just in time, because Isabella stormed past her, looking displeased with Lyra’s quick departure from the sex party she prepared for her. Lyra sighed. She should probably stay there a while, the pirate queen will undoubtedly look for her at the estate; a meeting she would very much like to avoid. She’ll go to Isabella tomorrow and try to explain why she refused such a generous offer to widen her sexual experience. Her passionate friend always needed some time to calm down and stop seeing red.

Peeking carefully from behind the boxes she saw a familiar figure and her heart skipped a beat in delight. “Shh Anders! I’m here!”

He stopped abruptly and looked around, it took him few seconds to locate her. He wasted no time and jumped over a barrel to join her.

“So why exactly is my famous wife hiding behind a pile of boxes in the heavy rain?” He wasn’t prepared to share the unfortunate events of this afternoon, so he tried to divert her attention to herself. Plus, he was actually really curious, why was she crouching there and, if he was seeing correctly in the thick rain, why was she blushing like a fifteen year old virgin?

“Hmm, lets just say Isabella prepared a really special surprise party for me, and I had to run away from all the fun. So now, I’m hiding for a while… she just stormed by and probably headed toward the estate. Are you done in the clinic? Why didn’t you take the passage through the cellar in this rain? You’re dripping wet!”

“Well you aren’t much drier, love.” He took in her appearance fully. The simple leather coat was open, a white thin linen shirt left to the rain to soak into, became marvelously transparent. She wore a breastband, but its fabric didn’t conceal her perked-up, pink nipples. How come after such a terrible experience only a moment ago, he was all aroused and utterly focused on her gorgeous body? He didn’t touch her yet, but the air was already full of sexual tension, sparks almost visible between them.

Lyra became very much aware of the tiny funny ball between her legs, as her body responded to Anders’ sudden presence. He was simply gorgeous. The dark blonde hair loose and entirely wet hid almost half of his face, the warm amber eyes looking at her with such intensity, her knees were turning to jello. The black feathers on his opened overcoat glistened with drops of water, the light everyday shirt he usually wore was wet, sticking to his skin, the well defined chest and abdomen muscles visible underneath. Yet she sensed an odd tension behind his charming appearance, something was troubling him deeply. He tried to hide it from her and she now knew better than to pry. Hoping he would share later, she decided to let him have whatever he needed from her. His lips were curled up in a irresistible mischievous smirk, the kiss was inevitable.

The pile of boxes was higher near the building’s wall and he pushed in her stomach lightly to make her back away toward the place, where they had no need to crouch uncomfortably. Running his hand through her hair, tracing the loose locks along the side of her neck all the way down...she began to tremble and breathe heavily as he slipped a hand inside the wet shirt, pulled the breastband down effortlessly and reached her nipple, circling it with his thumb and cupping her breast possessively. The other was slowly traveling from her lower back toward her ass. He grabbed it powerfully, pressing Lyra to his aroused body, lifting her off her feet lightly. The movement caused the ball inside of her to stir, a strong shiver ran through her body and she gasped loudly.

“What is it, are you hurt?” Anders let her go, confused by her inappropriate reaction.

“No I just… oh this is so embarrassing… please don’t ask me how it got there...:” Lyra unlaced her leather pants, crouched lower and pulled the silver ball outside of her tingling center. She straightened up and looked him in the eyes, a deep blush blossoming on her cheeks. Without a word Anders closed the distance between them, hugged her waist tightly with one hand and took the ball in the other. He lifted it to his lips, such intensity and hunger in his lively eyes, Lyra’s throat tightened and she bit her lower lip, tasting her own blood. Anders kissed the ball passionately, his tongue licking its surface, tasting her essence with delight. With an endearing smile he then tucked it into her coat pocket, lifted her chin gently, and started to kiss her urgently.

His tongue quickly made its way into her opened mouth, teasing and exploring, following the lines of her quivering lips. She sighed and drove her hips toward his growing erection. Anders hissed and grabbed her ass with both hands, to get the closest possible contact  with her body. Moving his hips in small circles, he forced her to follow, the friction and pressure driving her crazy with desire.

A familiar cold feeling ran through his body suddenly. Justice or Vengeance was awake, trying to take over. He broke the kiss, looked around and in a small space between two barrels, he saw Cullen, still searching Hightown for him.

_ Stop your selfish activities and kill the Templar! We need to start answering to the abuse of power… we need justice to enthrone! _

The spirit once again drowned out all of his own thoughts, its voice booming in his head, forcing him to let Lyra go and grab his throbbing temples in a desperate attempt to get rid of his two faced companion.

Lyra tried to reach him, desperate to offer comfort and peace to her hurting husband. She saw an occasional flash of icy blue spark in his amber eyes, the sign of Justice’s attempts to control him. She felt utterly helpless.

Anders fought hard, but he was losing. His own hatred toward Templars fuelled the spirit, and for the second time in this only afternoon, Vengeance gained the control of his mind and body. 

Lyra desperately searched their surroundings for anything that triggered this fucking crises, and she saw Cullen, probably on a patrol. He was fuming, looking for something or someone, his tense body language revealed his readiness for fight. The atmosphere around her shifted and Lyra recognized the moment Anders’ defences crumbled and Vengeance took over. She prayed Cullen to disappear soon, the rain would mercifully muffle all sounds. 

_ I need to hold him back! _

She grabbed Anders’ wrists, looked in the strange icy blue eyes.  _ Oh fuck, this isn’t happening… this can’t be real… _

But she didn’t have time to be overwhelmed by her feelings. His mind blast hit her hard and sent her flying up, only to be hurtled down on the hard and slippery cobblestones, the impact so strong in knocked her breath out. As she was desperately gulping for air, her vision all watery from both rain and tears, she saw a blurred blue-lighted figure approaching her ominously. 

“You meddled enough, woman. You’re no longer an asset, you’ve became a nuisance. You need to die.” the terrible voice of Vengeance vibrated through her hurting body, making her heart beat like a caged wild animal against the bars, her mind paralyzed with shock and despair. 

As in slow motion she saw and sensed a wave of electricity speeding through the air, she could nothing but watch her tragical end to hurtle towards her. Then just in the last possible moment a green light erupted around her, she was encircled in a protective bubble, Anders’ own barrier. She saw him behind it, he was panting heavily, his knees barely holding him in a standing position. His eyes were firmly shut, but she knew they were once again back to their warm amber brown color.        __

Anders exhaled painfully.  _ Oh my love, I’ve almost killed you. I wish you would do it first. _ Lifting his hands in a surrendering gesture he backed off slowly, feeling a new level of despair with every step.

“I shouldn’t get you involved, I can’t do this... I’m so sorry…” And he ran away from her, oblivious to Lyra’s tearful calls after him.


	15. The Empty Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is also a rewrite, as is the previous chapter. I've published them earlier and then realized, they were too violent and untrue to the characters...   
> Lyra and Anders are processing the recent unfortunate events... Justice is an ass  
> Soundtrack:  
> So Cold - Ben Cocks  
> Hurts Like Hell - Fleurie  
> as ever thanks to TurboNerd for super quick editing :)

_ Anders, what have you done to me? To us? How am I to go on after this? _

Lyra was dragging both her beaten body and soul through Hightown, grateful for the pouring rain, which was keeping people of the streets and refreshing her darkening senses.

_ I thought I had you, I thought you couldn’t hurt me, I wanted us to work… you are everything to me, but you hurt me. You have shattered me to pieces….my Anders. _

She knew the Spirit was becoming untameable, but she would never ever for one tiny moment believe it could resolve in Anders hurting  _ her,  _ even when Vengeance held him caged _.  _ Her throat tightened and the overfilled dam of tears finally broke, and she had to lean against a nearby wall, her knees threatening to betray her. Disconsolate sobs ran wildly in the center of her chest, bubbling up to her mouth, causing her to tremble and gasp for air. Tears mingled with the rain drops on her cheeks, sliding into her open mouth. They tasted like liquid despair and betrayal. She was cold, icy chill reached her bones, strong shivers made her teeth rattle uncontrollably. Gripping desperately at rough stones in the wall, she slowly approached her estate, the short walk made her touch the very bottom of her life energy.

Her home was empty, not a living soul to try and heal her wounds. Dog came rushing to her, but froze in his usual wildly enthusiastic welcoming dance, and began to wail instead, his anguished sounds resonating through the house, undoubtedly reaching the noble ears of her neighbors. To her own surprise she managed to climb the stairs, locked her bedroom’s door firmly and with the last bit of her strength stumbled into her soft bed. Lyra Hawke cried herself to sleep in soaked and dirty clothes, Dog guarding her devotedly.

…………………..

Dreams were not kind to the Champion of Kirkwall that night. She tossed and turned, cried and screamed from her feverish sleep, sweat glistening on her forehead and soaking through her clothes into the fine silk sheets.

She was running through Kirkwall after sunset, all doors and windows were shut up firmly. The city was quiet and empty. Behind every corner she cut, a man waited for her. A man of honor, she trusted to be safe having around. Only they were not anymore. They wanted to harm her. To beat her body and destroy her soul, to leave her in dust on the street like a disposable tool they no longer needed. Nice, noble men she met on a daily basis, shop owners who gave her discounts. She had saved them all from the Qunari, and had become too important in the direction of the city; they didn’t want her to have that power. The hard work was done, she should return to dust and dirt she originally came from. The inconvenient mage defender; former Ferelden refugee. One by one tried to restrain her, clawing at her throat, brandishing daggers, sending assassins after her. 

She was unarmed, so the only defences she had were her quick and agile moves, she even started to scratch and bite to get from their possessive grasps.

And she succeeded, aside from superficial wounds, they couldn’t hurt her. But the fights were steadily wearing her down, every muscle in her body screamed for rest, her moves slowed down, her punches and kicks lost their intensity and precision. Despair filled her tortured mind, she knew her resistance would crumble, she would die soon...

She woke up with her heart still racing, and she automatically turned towards the left side of her bed, searching for the comforting hug Anders always provided. Only his side was cold and empty. Her memory caught up and she realized her bed will be cold and empty from now on. Blinking away the tears, a shadow of a smile ran over her lips. When Anders moved in, he claimed her side of the bed for his own. She argued fiercely, but he refused and stood his ground. He stated, that a man should always sleep closer to the door, so to shield his treasure from any possible harm.  _ So now I need to be the shield to myself.  _ She closed her eyes again, desperate to exchange the harsh reality for the merciful oblivion of sleep...

… She cut another corner and gasped in shock as Knight-Captain Cullen caught her shoulders tightly, and pressed her to his bare and muscular chest. “So I’ve heard you’re no longer wanted here. You know, Meredith wanted to be rid of you forever, Champion of the damned Mages. I would be delighted to show you all of my secret torturing methods. Pity I needn’t use them on Bethany, the threat of Tranquility is very convincing. There’s no need for violence to make her obedient. She does  _ everything _ I ask of her.” A nasty smirk curled up his lips, as he held her wrists together and prepared to wrap a restraining rope around them. His breath smelled of lyrium, she could almost taste its bitter metal flavor on her tongue. She was fighting him, yes she was, but oh my, Cullen was so freakishly strong and solid… “Save me your fruitless struggle, Champion, and accompany me to Meredith. She wants to see you suffer. Just a bit, you know…” a cynical chuckle bubbled from his lips… he didn’t manage to finish the knot though, as a loud bang echoed through the street. 

The Templar was suddenly gone and she was free to flee towards Anders, who was standing nearby, his staff in a fighting position.

But Lyra didn’t find peace and protection in her husband’s arms. He stood still as she clung to him, her heart aching for him to close the embrace, to hold her tight against his warm chest. Instead he gripped her upper arms harshly, his fingers digging in her muscles. A new wave of horror hit her hard, as Justice’s voice filled the air along with his chilling energy. “You are no longer an asset to our cause, nor a desirable companion to Anders. Leave us alone from now on. BE GONE!” His,  _ HIS _ hands shoved her aside and she fell _... _

Lyra hit the floor hard, falling off her bed. Normally she would curse and get up immediately, but not today. Today, she gave up. She was broken. There was nothing left but sit on the polished wooden floor staring blankly at the opposite wall.

_ Breathe in, breathe out _ . Her mind was paralyzed. Frozen in time. Quick flashes of yesterday’s events were projecting before her eyes, but she felt oddly disconnected, only a witness to those scenes. Again and again she watched, trying to find an explanation, so she could process it better. Her increasing frustration from the mess in her crazed mind reached its limit and the room slowly came in focus again, her eyes lingered on the armchair.

Anders’ worn undershirt she used to wear and snuggle into with delight, cherishing his intoxicating scent lingering on it, lied on the elbow-rest. Painfully, she rose up and shrugged off yesterday’s clothes. Naked, she crossed the room and started a fire. The increasing heat was pleasant on her cold skin, her constant shivering subdued a bit. When the thick logs were crackling and sparks flew high, Lyra fed her clothes to the flames, piece by piece. Her fine coat, soft leather pants with silk panties. Her shirt and breastband. All of them would remind her of Anders’ attack; the moment when Vengeance possessing _HIS_ body almost killed her. 

She turned around and snatched his undershirt from the armchair, crumpling it into a ball. Inhaling deeply she buried her nose in it and got lost in her man’s divine scent, comforting as ever. It was all so confusing! In her head she knew it was all Vengeance. She knew it! Anders wasn’t to be blamed. But still the image of his intimately familiar beautiful face contorted in a hateful grin, his arms which always provided a safe sanctuary now advancing on her, his whole body language radiating hostility and malice. It wasn’t his fault, that much she knew. Only she couldn’t forget the feeling. The feeling of total shock and despair, her whole world shaken as her beloved attacked to kill. 

_ How can I trust you again? How can I look upon you and not see and feel you hurting me? _    In a quick and decisive motion, she extended her arm to drop the undershirt in the flames, and a horrid flashback jumped up before her eyes. So live, colorful and detailed, she almost felt the rain on her skin again. Anders,  _ her _ Anders hurting her…  _ Daddy, I would do anything for a moment in your embrace, hearing your soothing voice “Shh my fierce kitten, it will be alright”! _

Hysterical sobs rattled her whole body violently, as all her losses came back at once. Her beloved daddy, the steady rock in the storm, her stubborn and grumpy baby brother, her mother… only Bethany remained, but she was locked away in the damned Gallows! Instead of them she gained her man, he was supposed to catch and comfort her… An intense pain ran up her fingers, she gasped and pulled her hand out of the fire, still holding the damned piece of clothing in her burned fingers. The shirt was only smoking a bit but her fingers were all red and swollen. Lyra stumbled in the bathroom and submerged her hand in the basin full of clear cold water. A tearful sigh of relief escaped her lips and she met her own eyes in the large mirror.  _ Fuck! _

The woman staring back at her was a stranger. Thin, her once firm muscles flaccid, a hideous scar running down her abdomen. Hollow eyes with dark circles around them, her formerly smooth and radiant skin now a greyish color with red feverish spots. Those fine black tresses he loved so much, matted and tangled into a greasy mess. She touched her lips hesitantly, they were cracked and dry, thirsty for fat drops of water and her husband’s kisses…  _ Anders, I’m so fucked up…   _

She took a deep breath to steady herself, and straightened up, raising her chin.  _ I’m the fucked up Champion… I don’t get happy endings, I just fight and kill. That’s what is left of Lyra Amelia Hawke. _

………………………

Anders locked the door behind him. The clinic was dark and empty, it mirrored the state of his soul. He crashed down onto his cot and let his face fall into his trembling hands.  _ I can’t do this. In my cause to fight for the innocent and abused, I’ve become a monster. In a desperate attempt to distract Vengeance from killing Rutherford, I’ve almost… oh what have I done to Lyra?! To my dearest, precious love! This erases all the good I’ve ever done… _

The voice in his head, belonging to his friend Justice once, hissed in a harsh tone.  _ Once again you’ve ruined a perfect opportunity to punish the villains by putting your personal affairs first! She was a mistake! _

Anders shot up and yelled on top of his lungs. “YOU WERE A MISTAKE! SHUT UP!” He stormed to the store room and began searching in its shelves frantically, looking for any clue, how to get the spirit out of his body.  _ To the Fade with you! I can’t let myself hurt her!  _

Books and notes were flying around, he shot flames in the air, which formed into ten fist sized fireballs, moving slowly around him and lighting the room. All the neatly organized herbs, salves and potions were parading before his eyes, but none hold the power to heal him, to set him free. His head began to hurt again, a thousand little hammers beating inside his forehead in a steady rhythm, his temples pulsating and warming to the point of burning. Quickly welling tears from the pain blurred his vision. Justice sniggered.  _ Heal yourself, you fool! _

In a swift gesture Anders hurtled one of the fireballs towards the wall, where it exploded with a loud crack. A shower of sparks burst and fluttered down on every surface in a wide radius.  _ I deserve the pain! I need it to feel alive in my own body, which seems not to be entirely mine to control  these days… thanks to you! There must be a way! I need to try… for her, for the vow I made -  _ **_I was, am and will ever be your devout man._ ** _ I need to keep her safe. I won’t allow myself to hurt her anymore! _

And then the thought hit him.  _ I must die. Stop breathing. _ He reached in the topmost shelf, took down a rusty iron box and set it on the table, his hands shaking with excitement. He shrugged his feathered coat from his shoulders and ripped a hole in the lining. His slender fingers found a tiny key hidden there and he opened the box, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. Four tiny wax sealed vials were safely tucked in a soft cotton cloth.

A pleasant memory of Callista - his dear Warden-Commander came to his mind. Back in Amaranthine she gave him a hand in supplying the apothecary. He remembered her playful smirk, when he asked for these four precious essences.  _ “Really Anders, there’s no need to poison Nathaniel over the redhaired maid’s magnificent bosom. You both just need to smile at her, and she’ll let you fuck her into coma.” _ The tiny elf knew very well the tinctures could both kill and heal. It depended on the dosage only. But of course she had to tease him about it.

So now he pulled out the smallest vial filled with pitch-black liquid and he broke the wax seal very carefully. But what dosage should he take? One drop is for calming a racing heart, two for putting the person into a healing sleep for a night. Five for slowing your heartbeat to the point of peaceful painless death. But what is a dosage for stopping your heart just for a tiny moment? Is it even possible to get it running again?  _ Oh damn it! I can’t do this alone and survive! I need someone to give me the essence of elfroot with crystal grace after! _

Justice sniggered inside his head once again.  _ I was curious about your plan, but you’re an idiot. I won’t leave your body in death, have you already forgotten about Kristoff? I would use your corpse temporarily until I find another long lasting solution! So give up! Focus on our task! Remember all the wrongs, murders, Rites and abuses your kin has to suffer! We have to avenge them all! _

Anders stood still, shock paralyzed him completely. The realisation hit him hard. Now he knew he couldn’t get rid of the hateful spirit. Ever. If he did, Vengeance would be in charge of his decaying body, a horrid thought causing his stomach flip over, he almost threw up. His knees responded as well and he slumped down on the floor, hugging his legs tightly in a desperate attempt to calm himself. 

_ I have to postpone my death for as long as possible. Or have my body destroyed beyond repair. Is there really no other solution than to blow myself in the air? _

Musing about his own end triggered a memory he buried deep in his mind in vain hope to forget it completely.

He was fourteen, hiding in a closet with the seven years old Innocence. The girl was new and terrified of Templars, senior mages, Tranquils… and most of all, her own powers. “Andy, I wanna go home! To my mommy… but the big Templar said she didn’t….love me… anymore. Because I have magic… and he said…” Anders had to hold her tight to calm her down, so she was able to talk again. “... he said, that she already had a new girl, she loved better than me, and that she was prettier and mommy gave her all my things, toys, clothes, that she rode my pony.... I don’t want magic… I want to go home… can’t you take it from me somehow?”

He held her and whispered nice things, even tried some feeble jokes to make her smile, but nothing could get her out of her misery. “Innie, your mum loves you, I know she does! No matter what you do, your mummy loves you and never forgets you for a tiny moment! That’s what all mothers do, they don’t know anything else, it’s their nature. Don’t listen to the fucking armored Mountain!!! He just wants to bully you! I’ll keep you company and there are other kids, and some nice female mages too… Wynne for one...you’ll see, it’s not that bad.” He hoped against all odds, that his partial lie would calm her down and spark some hope in the darkness. 

But he couldn’t watch her all the time and after a week he was returning back from a lecture, opened the door to the girl’s dormitory, ready to tell her a silly story… and he heard the fucking Templar from the window… “It would be better for you to end this, you little mage rat, so finally your mother won’t have to feel mortified she gave a birth to such a monster! Just jump out to put her out of the misery you’ve inflicted on her!”

“Innie NOOOOO!” But Anders’ scream came out too late, he could only watch the tiny girl slipping over the ledge, her eyes blinded with tears. He ran after her, but the Templar caught him and showed him against the wall. He closed the distance and hissed in Anders’ face, his breath smelling after lyrium and sour wine. “You know I could throw you out after your fellow abomination, but two in one day would be too much, even for Greagoir. So if you want to have all your teeth, then hold your mouth shut. Understood?” The hard punch into his ribs wasn’t the last one to endure. 

Anders closed his eyes firmly. Took a few calming breaths, or else he would throw up for sure. He can’t ever forget Innie’s tortured face.

_ See? We have to make them all listen, shout it out into the open! Ensure no other child suffers only because they were born with magic! And if we can’t achieve justice for them, then we have to avenge them! And you need me for that task! _

Anders stood still, his head throbbing almost unbearably, threatening to explode with all the terrible repressed memories suddenly flooding his brain. Beating, abuses, psychic terror… all he had to witness or feel on his own skin… his one year solitude in the small cell… and  _ Karl _ … his first true friend and love being made Tranquil. His own hand ending the existence of a shadow of the man he once admired and worshipped.

The short happiness with Lyra seemed so distant and unreal now… all the sunny and warm moments shadowed and ruined with his own colossal failure. _I was a fool to believe I would be good for her, that I could make her happy and keep her safe… I’m done with love. I’ll stick to our cause from now on, Justice. You were right._

__ __


	16. The Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the high dragon is a bitch and Lyra Hawke needs to deal with it
> 
> Songs:  
> Fleurie - Hurts like hell (yes again :D)  
> Imagine Dragons - Warriors
> 
> Thanks to my two editing angels - TurboNerd and HQuinn

_ A fucking high dragon. In the fucking Bone Pit. Her Bone Pit, as Hubert didn’t forget to emphasize, after Bella informed them about the result of her scouting. _

Lyra closed her eyes, she needed a moment to get it together. The noise and all the crowd in the inn were not helping to lighten up her misery. She ordered a bottle of the Hanged Man’s finest brandy; well, still not the good stuff, but it’ll do. Taking a generous gulp, Lyra headed towards Varric’s private suite to join the others. 

They often gathered there to discuss their daily affairs and prepare the strategy for all difficult tasks. In brief moments of peace they played Wicked Grace or just exchanged some funny stories; Varric’s were, of course, the most extravagant and colorful. Isabella shared her many dirty adventures with delight, taking great pleasure in making Merrill blush and annoying Aveline until she called Isabella a whore and left the table. Before Sebastian’s forced farewell, the Prince often stormed out after shaking Bella from his lap, where she teasingly posed her prominent ass, leveling her bouncy bosom with his emerald eyes. Fenris was usually quiet, watching the merriment from shadow, a bottle in his hand. Sometimes he uttered a surprisingly witty comment, one time he even made a joke. Varric had the evening marked in his calendar as the Broody’s Buoyant Bark… 

And  _ Anders _ . He used to sit next to her, leaning close to whisper his desires in her ear, running his long gentle fingers along her thigh, or fondling her ass from behind. Once he even unlaced her pants under the table, and teased her clit through the soaking wet silk of her smalls. She bit her lip, hid behind her cards and as her orgasm curled up her toes, she managed to disguise her moan as a loud winning cheer. She was about to revenge herself, but had no opportunity to unlace his pants. Anders stood up abruptly, grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the door, with her leather pants still open. He found the first empty closet and took her right there, on a wobbly laundry rack, which banged against the wooden wall rather loudly; the comments they had to endure after the memorable event were almost endless. Isabella even made rhythmical loud banging noises every time they entered the Hanged Man since…

Lyra joined her friends at the table, they all fell quiet and were exchanging concerned sideways glances. Varric was the first one to find courage to ask. “Are we gonna talk about it, Hawke?”

She scowled, it had been only three days, her feelings were a mess;  hurt, fear, desire for her once trusted man, she was swimming in the dark alone, gulping for breath as a strong panic attack ran through her freezing body. No safe shore or even rock in sight. What was she supposed to say when she didn’t already know? Lyra was torn between running to Anders for comfort or burning all the bridges that linked them together. “No, we are not going to talk about it. He’s not with us now. That’s it. Now to the fucking dragon. We need to kill it, obviously. So everybody just do their thing, and it will be over quickly.”

Once again it was Varric who spoke, his voice full of disbelief. “Really? That’s your strategy against a monstrously huge, flying, fire breathing beast? Well as grandiose it would sound in my book, I’m afraid we need something more here… I don’t want to have my dashing chest hair scorched.”

As everybody seemed to agree with Varric, she blurted out, “Oh, you’re such babies! Fine, I’ll let Sandal enchant all of our armor and weapons to endure fire and deal some electricity or primal damage, happy?”

Varric shifted uneasily in his luxurious chair, as if there were nails beneath his muscled ass. “Well, not entirely… you have to take Blondie as well.”

“No.”

“We can’t rely on potions alone!”

“No.”  _ I can’t face him so soon. I would break down. _

“Oh come on, Hawke, you don’t have always time to stop and open the bottle, do you? Remember the Arishok? And that bloke was like a flea compared to this fellow. Also couldn’t fly and breathe fire, if I recalled correctly. Only, his peculiar fragrance was rather beastly. Anyway, we need a healer to make it back in one piece from your prosperous enterprise. ”

“Varric,  _ NO! _ That’s my final decision. Are you with me or not?”

“Damn it, of course I’m!”

She looked around questioningly, waiting for the others to make up their minds. They all noded to indicate their consent.

“Fine. Now, all of you, please take your armor and weapons to my place, so Sandal can work on the enchantments. He will be so excited, he won’t sleep until it’s done. We’ll meet first thing in the morning, have breakfast, arm and equip ourselves with potions. Get some rest.”

She paused in the doorway and sighed. “I know, I’m acting like a bitch, but I’m in a bad place. I need your support.”

“You have it, Hawke.” Fenris’ deep voice assured her from the shadowed corner. “We meet in the morning. Try to get some rest. Ehm… do you want company?”

Lyra thought about it for a moment, she liked Fenris’ sarcastic remarks, and it might be nice to just sit in comfortable silence and drink something fine. But she needed to clear up her mind, to breathe fresh air again. The smells of the city she happened to love before, as it represented life and new opportunities, suddenly made her sick and uncomfortable. All the people in the streets, watching her, seeking her help and guidance... she met friendly faces but the number of judgemental and sniggering nobles grew every day. Their Champion was steadily suffocating from all the attention she received.

Red Wind whinnied with excitement as she entered the stables and put the saddle on his back. She loved the smell of the horse’s warm body, hay and soft, worn leather. This felt right. Comforting. She belonged on horseback. Without thinking about the direction she just enjoyed his steady trot, the feeling of muscle, joy and energy that radiated from her magnificent stallion.

Of course she ended up on that beach. The beach, where they had made vows to each other.  _ I swear I love you and am here for you until the day I die. I’m your woman.  _ Lyra urged Red Wind into swift gallop, in desperate need to avoid all the painful memories haunting her ever since Vengeance in  _ HIS  _ body tried to kill her. Every damned piece in her house seemed to bear his mark. Their sweet intimate moments flashed before her eyes, but somehow always ended in the same horrid image of Anders glowing in icy blue, advancing on her. She had never felt so helpless, vulnerable... and lost. But there was no possibility for the Champion to fall apart. Not with the high dragon, not with the mages and Templars going after each other throats. The tension in Kirkwall growing with each day, she'll have to do something soon…  _ Just a few moments alone… _

She dismounted, tethered Red Wind safely and walked over the sand to sit on a large rock. There would be no bathing that day. The sun hid behind dark fat clouds, the sea underneath wild, waves crashing into sharp slippery rocks, salty drops showering every nearby surface, the sound deafening, its untamed energy filled her entirely. She loved the colors of the restless water-table, merging all shades of grey, deep green, dark blue bordering on black, all sugarcoated in white bubbles and foam. Lyra hugged her legs and rested her chin on her knees, breathing deeply, filling her lungs with the pure and salty air, her long untamed hair flying in all directions as the strong wind desired.

She looked to the outline of Kirkwall, the city of chains she considered her home for quite a while. She had a few dear friends there, Bethany somewhere behind the high walls of the Circle, a nice place to live… only she realised the strongest link in the chain, that bound her to it, was her relationship, her marriage to Anders… and now it was broken. Likely beyond repair. The chain was severed. 

_ I can leave… if I can’t be with him, it might be easier… to put some distance between us, so I’m not able to walk into his clinic anytime I want to… _ Lyra tried to picture a different life. In Ferelden maybe, she could buy a farm, breed and train horses… her childhood dream… Only it didn’t feel right anymore. The prospect of never seeing Anders again, not knowing if he is safe and well, such thoughts made her hands shake, heart racing, cold sweat forming on her brow.  _ No, I can’t. I need to be near, to know, to watch him, even from afar. Even if it hurts like hell… _

**The Bone Pit**

The party approached the mine warily. They were on foot, bringing horses near a dragon wouldn’t be the smartest move. So they left Kirkwall early in the morning, and voilá an hour later the six of them were standing in the miner’s camp. Or what was left of it. Everything in sight broken, burned and black. Bodies everywhere. They looked for any signs of life, but the massacre left not a single living soul. 

Lyra blinked in disbelief, her heart skipped a beat and then started hammering giddily inside her ribcage, as a familiar tall figure emerged from behind a pile of half burned up crates, walking to them in long determined strides.  _ Oh no no no! I can’t fight a dragon with him next to me. I won’t be able to focus…  _ She tried to blink away the tears already forming in her eyes, furious about her failure to hide her feelings. The last thing she needed - a breakdown in front of the entire party, just a moment before their first dragon battle.   __

“Varric, I told you not to…” She managed to whisper in a shaky voice. The dwarf looked up to her, and seeing her tortured face, he squeezed her hand reassuringly, his eyes soft and full of compassion. 

_ Get it together, get it together… I can do this… just breathe... _

**The Clinic - previous evening**

After arguing the case with himself for almost an hour, torn between betraying his friend and ensuring the safety of the entire party, Varric Tethras opened the door to Anders’ clinic. He hadn’t seen the mage since the wedding ceremony he performed for the happy couple, it had been four days. Four lousy days, in which his friends’ new marriage broke and left Hawke in pieces. Despite her trying to hide it, Varric had never seen Hawke so upset and off her game. Not even after her mother’s death was she radiating such misery and inner turmoil.  _ Damn it, what did you do, Blondie? _

The question remained in his mind only, because seeing Anders’ haunted looks, he knew better than to interrogate the poor man. Ander was cleaning up after a busy shift, his mana and energy completely drained. After the incident, Anders spent each day in either a few moments of restless slumber on his cot, or in furious manic states of fruitless activity. He was finally back to his working routine. He took as many cases as possible, and in the spare moments, when he wasn’t healing, there was always the apothecary to be supplied and sorted out. Anna was a great help, she kept him company, and he welcomed their chats on both professional and petty everyday subjects. Anything was better than to be left alone with his own and Justice’s thoughts. As long as he was busy, Lyra retreated to the distant corner of his mind, transforming into a black cloud far on the horizon, reflecting only as a dark shadow on the smooth and detached water-table of his working mind. In moments of solitude, the whole mess came back to him, hitting hard, growing in intensity, as the storm took over the previously calm and gloomy sea. The waves of emotions rolled over him, making Justice uneasy; the spirit couldn’t understand such ambivalent and strong feelings.  _ I love her, I hurt her, I love her… I hurt her so… my Lyra.  _ Guilt gripped his stomach, and desperate longing for her kept him awake, staring into darkness. At least the fluffy cat kept him company, felt out his distress, it came in every evening and curled beside him, a deep purr rumbling in it’s chest, the sound and vibrations a balm to his hurting mind…

Never before had Varric seen him in such a miserable state. He wished to help his dear friends, turn back time and prevent whatever misfortune happened to them. At least he’d do anything to keep them safe. Even if it could raise another hurtful situation between the couple. 

“So Blondie, do you need extra pair of skillful hands?”

Anders looked sharply up from his apothecary table. “Eh, no thanks Varric, I’m almost done. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Right to business, I see… well first I came to check on you, as a caring friend. And second, there’s a high dragon in the Bone Pit and Hawke insists upon taking it down without you. I don’t have a clue what disaster must have happened, for her to deny her shiny new husband such a unique opportunity. Nevertheless, I came to you to ask for your assistance. I’ll rather risk Hawke’s ire, than the death of us all. We’re heading for the mine first thing in the morning. I can even take your gear to Sandal for enchantment, I’m sure Hawke won’t notice it among the pile of everyone else's armor.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll be there.” Anders looked away from Varric’s friendly face, his gaze lingered on a fine engraved wooden box full of dried elfroot, its lid bearing Lyra’s family crest. He was running his thumb along the lines absent-mindedly, then whispered in a husky voice. “How is she?”

Varric hesitated, he knew the question would come up, though he wasn’t sure what answer would do the least damage. He decided to be honest. There was no good in pretending; Blondie would see Hawke’s state with his own eyes soon enough. 

“Not well. She’s like walking misery to me. And since she refuses to talk about you, there’s little I can do… is there a chance you would share with me? Because it all seems so sudden and I can’t imagine what it took to separate two such devoted puppies.” 

Anders kept staring at his slender fingers, which were reluctant to let go of Lyra’s memento. “I suppose I could tell you… in fact I should tell you for future missions and such… it is a safety issue after all…” His words failed him.  _ If I say this aloud, I can’t ever take it back. It will be real. Not a nightmare I could hope to be awakened from.  _

“Vengeance took over, she wanted to prevent me killing Rutherford and I almost killed her.” Hearing it, his heart began to race again, the now ever present hammering it his temples grew in intensity and forced him to sit down. 

“Varric none of you are safe around me anymore. I intended to stay away, not endanger you all any further, but I see now, you need my healing skills badly.”

The dwarf patted his shoulder, desperately searching for any words that could comfort his friend.  _ Damn, I got nothing! _ “I’m so sorry, Blondie.”

Anders packed his armor into a worn leather sack, Varric swung it over his broad shoulders. “I’ll let Bodahn know you need it delivered before dawn, so you can reach the Bone Pit before us.” and headed out. While opening the door he heard Anders’ firm voice from behind. 

“Varric, promise me, you will kill me if I’m about to attack her, the party or any other innocents.”

“Blondie, there’s no need for such drama, I’m sure…”

A flat, resigned voice interrupted him. “You’ll need to destroy my body beyond repair, otherwise Justice would wield it. Promise me!”

Varric stared at him in utter disbelief. “So basically you are asking me to shoot you and then cut you into pieces…. because that’s just what good friends do, isn’t it?”

“Varric, I need to know, you’ve got my back in this. Otherwise I can’t return in our party and do my healing part.” Anders locked his gaze, a solemn expression on his suddenly much older looking face. His skin ash pale, previously hardly visible worry lines deepened, the dark circles beneath his soft amber eyes bare witness to the significant sleep deficiency and persistent torturous headache. And his eyes… Varric couldn’t stand the haunted look, the pain, sorrow and guilt they so intensely radiated. He recognized Blondie touched the very bottom. The mischievous boy, who surfaced once in awhile, telling jokes and looking at Hawke with lovesick puppy eyes, was gone. Before him stood a broken man, asking for his help to keep at least one stable and familiar aspect of his previous life. 

“I promise.”

**The Bone Pit**

Anders was determined to keep it civil, businesslike. They had a dragon to fight, his task was clear and simple, there was no room for error due to an emotional turmoil.  _ I need to call her Hawke again, it might help. I will keep her alive and keep my distance, never again be alone with her, always have the others to intervene if Vengeance takes over… _

The moment he stood before her, his safe plan burned to dust. “Love… Lyra, I’m so so sorry, I can’t even…” His voice failed him, the others disappeared. Anders saw his woman only, the one he needed to hold tight, to feel her warm body pressed against his… and he knew he couldn’t, for the sake of her safety and his sanity. He couldn’t read her face, once a perfect mirror to all emotions she felt. Lyra’s full lips parted, her voice like a winter’s grasp, painful freeze hit his exacerbated heart. 

“Anders, I didn’t ask for your help. But since you’re here, make yourself useful. I expect you to be on top of your game. I have no need for an emotional and distracted mage. Is that clear?” 

His eyes tried to capture hers, but in vain. She refused to let him bathe in their sparkling green depths, doggedly studying the muddy ground instead. There was nothing else for him to say but… “Yes, I understand… Hawke.”  _ Lyra… my love… I’d do anything for you… but this is so fucking hard! _

Lyra noded to a particularly large splash of mud covering her fine leather boot.  _ I did it! I made the cut… for both of us… I can’t trust you anymore… and you would never forgive yourself, if you had hurt me… Anders, hold me, it hurts like hell… _

“So let’s go get the dragon bitch!”

The high dragon proved to be a magnificent bitch indeed. Plus it summoned all its little dragonling and mature dragon bitches, which resulted in a fight lasting three hours, all their healing potions spent after the first hour. Even Fenris was more than happy, Anders showed up despite Hawke’s orders. Without the mage, they would be scorched and turned into smouldering coals and lazily flying ash after their first bold attack. 

Once again working like a well oiled killing machine, the party found its efficient rhythm. Aveline in the front, playing bait and taking all the damage she could, a few times she looked like a burning sentinel. Isabella darting out of shadows, dealing a few effective strikes and disappearing again to the safety. Fenris swinging his sword with astonishing strength, sparks erupting from its brute impact on the dragon’s scales. Varric’s bolts were whistling past their ears to sink into the gigantic beast, Merrill in the rear, encased in stone armor and wielding her primal magic. 

Lyra and Anders were most grateful for the wild and consuming action, which put them into their battle modes - a state of mercifully empty mind, enabling the half automatic Lyra’s deadly moves and Anders’ precise spellcasting. Nothing else existed, only the fire-breathing monster with its pack of little vicious ones. 

Lyra welcomed the adrenalin rush, the satisfying pain that accompanied all of her hard blows and well aimed cuts, the occasional physical contact with the dragon’s hot and rough scales. She was wrong to assume Anders’ presence would distract her on battlefield. The thrilling frenzy she was in and her need for escape the tumult of emotions she experienced lately, caused her to risk much more than usual. Anders got her back as well as only possible, wrapping her in protective barrier spells, healing every minor scratch she received, almost before she could actually notice it. 

But his mana pool had its limits, as well as the quickly decrescent potion supply. Fortunately the big bitch was about to fall down as well. Lyra sensed it out and leaped in the air to deal the final blow in its unprotected neck. But at that exact moment, the beast gathered its deplenished energy for the last powerful fire breath. Which resulted in Lyra burying her dangers deep into the scaled neck, using all her body weight to add extra force and made the blow deadly, with her long tresses burning from crossing the fire breath trajectory. 

Anders watched the scene in horror, everything seemed in painful slow motion, but in fact he acted swiftly on instinct and sent winter’s grasp to put the fire down. He realized a fraction of a second later, that if his aim hadn’t been so precise, he could have killed her for sure. 

It all happened so fast, Lyra was barely aware of the fire on her back. As she drew her daggers out of the fallen monster, her adrenalin wave dissolved into a insignificant ripple and her brain switched to its normal sharp state, all her senses catching up. 

Every muscle in her body screamed for rest, her fingers started to spasm from the crushing grip of her daggers, her eyes red with all the smoke and flying ash. A pungent smell hit her sensitive nose hard, the smell of burned hair. Instinctively she reached for her lustrous tresses, only to find a tangle of frozen mess.  _ Just as well. _

The journey back to Kirkwall was exhausting for some and joyful for others. Varric and Bella were already cracking jokes about their successful dragon fight, arguing what dealt the biggest damage - Bella’s plunging neckline, Varric’s dashing chest hair, Fenris’ sense of humour, or Aveline’s freckles or Merrill’s naive eyes. Lyra and Anders dragged in the rear, both once again painfully aware of each other’s presence and the solid wall in between them. Lyra was afraid to look at him, afraid of triggering the horrid memory of him/Vengeance attacking her. Her man stole a glance of her from time to time, his hand twitching to hug her, but he knew better. The wall had its reasons, and he needed it to protect his love from Justice, from himself. 

Finally they reached Kirkwall and parted in front of the Hanged Man, Varric, Bella, Merrill and even Aveline with Fenris going inside to celebrate. Lyra refused to join the merriment and headed home without a second glance over her shoulder. Anders hesitated. Surely, Justice won’t be a threat so far from the Templars and mages. He knew he shouldn’t, but he needed to know. He had to heal her. To meet her alone… for the last time.

As soon as Lyra closed her mansion door, she was overrun with a joyful bundle of muscle and spiky hair, her entire face licked, Dog’s saliva even in her nose. “Oh that’s what I get for leaving you out of the dragon fight?! I’ll be sure to throw you in front of the next one, you big slobbering pup!” 

She barely stood on her legs again, as something very solid hit her hard in the stomach, while yelling “enchantment” on the top of its lungs. 

“Ouch, Sandal, I’m happy to see you too! And thanks for your magical skills, without your enchantment, the dragon would enjoy a very substantial breakfast. Bless you, little champ!”

“Sandal, ma boy, let the mistress go! I apologize for him messere, but we’re both so thrilled to see you back safe and sound. I’ll tell Orana to draw a bath for you and she has already prepared chicken with some vegetables and freshly baked bread and left it upstairs for you and master Anders on your writing table.” The dwarf merchant informed her, while calming down his excited son.  _ Snap. I wish I had the strength to tell Bodahn. _

“Thank you, Bodahn. I appreciate the help you two are providing for me and my companions.”

“Messere, Hawke.” With a little bow to each other they parted, Lyra headed up to the comfort of her cosy bedroom.  _ Empty bedroom. _

She unbuckled and pulled down her light armor, and padded in her bathroom. Standing in nothing but Anders’ old undershirt, she inspected her body for battle wounds in front of the large mirror. All she found were just a few scratches and quite a large burn on the side of her neck, where the fire breath licked her skin. Before she could fully intake the damage to her hair, a soft knock interrupted her solitude. 

“Come in, Orana.”

Though she expected her elven maid, it was Bodahn’s voice, carrying from the door. “I’m sorry for intrusion messere, but master Anders is here and he asked me to announce him… although I wanted to let him in on his own as usual.”

_ Anders… What is he doing here? Here, in my safe, empty place… _

“Let him in, Bodahn.” She wrapped a bathrobe tightly around her -  _ breathe in, breathe out -  _ and stepped into the bedroom. Her husband was standing all tall near the door, his dark blonde hair framing his beautiful, though tired and worried, face. Soft amber eyes searching for hers.  _ Amber, not blue. _

Anders took the first step towards her, his love looked so lonely and hurting, all her previous strength and guarded composure forgotten. 

“I came here to check upon you, will you let me heal your wounds?”

She noded, and closed her eyes, only to see the image of Anders burned to the back of her eyelids. 

A moment longer his divine scent engulfed her entirely, the intoxicating mixture of elfroot, sandalwood, fresh parchment and some ethereal essence that was  _ her _ Anders. 

She felt his healing magic running in waves over her body, closing every cut, dissolving every bruise. A shiver ran down her spine, goosebumps appeared on her forearms, as his warm breath touched her ear, and tickled the side of her burned, overly sensitive neck. A cool sensation spilled over the wound, and the searing pain was gone. His teasing breath was not.  _ He’s not safe, this would ruin you both sooner or later.  _

Lyra’s heart skipped a beat as his soft deep voice echoed so near her ear. “Will you let me take care of your hair? I’m afraid there’s not much I can rescue, but I can wash and cut it to frame your face.”  _ Your beautiful face.  _

Anders sensed, more than heard, her consent, and they walked towards the bathroom. He gestured her to be seated on the tall stool at her dressing table, took another one and placed the wash basin on top. Orana already left the two tall copper jugs filled with hot water near the bathtub, discreet and quick as usual. He found everything in place. Lyra’s lavender shampoo, her sharp silver scissors and soft brush, all so painfully familiar in his hands. 

First he cut off the scorched and frozen mess, that ran from the leather strap on her neck all way down to her waist. Then he carefully washed the remaining short strands, the smell of lavender teasing his senses. There was nothing else he wanted so badly, than to kiss her. Kiss her, hold her, run his fingers over every inch of her divine body…  _ Stop it, stop it! I need to get the hell out of here, or I won’t ever be able to! _

He focused on her hair instead. A happy memory triggered, he used to cut Karl’s wild thick hair too, even before they became lovers, and both of them were always enjoying the close contact and intimacy. Now he was cutting hair of another, possibly even greater, love of his, but the feelings were completely different. As was the hair itself. So soft, shiny and fragrant...  _ Focus! _

Anders washed away the last foam bubbles and dried her hair with a soft fluffy towel. His observant eyes noticed the familiar hem of his old undershirt, peeking out of Lyra’s bathrobe, which slipped down her shoulder. A bittersweet smile ran over his lips, as he also registered his ring glittering on her gloveless hand. He will hold on to this memory in the dark days to come. He took the brush in hand, combed every tangle gently and let the scissors work.

Lyra was lost.  _ Is it heaven or is it hell? _ She felt each one of his gentle touches, her heart was beating wildly, she had to keep her eyes closed to avoid his in the mirror in front of her. She missed him terribly before, but his touch yet showed her the true level of languor and despair. She almost reached for his hand, but in the precise moment her mind showed her a flash of the horrid memory. Anders, glowing in blue, advancing on her, ready to kill.  _ Vengeance, you had hurt me more than a thousand swords.  _

Anders’ voice interrupted her painful thoughts. “It’s done. You can take a look now.”

Lyra opened her eyes slowly, and stared on her own reflection. Her hair was swept to the right side of her face, cut short, barely touching her chin. Her head felt light, almost dizzy, from the lost weight of her former long and lustrous black tresses. Her man loved to run his fingers through them. No more. The woman in the mirror was someone else. New. Fresh. Strong.  _ I’m her. I’m strong. _

“Thank you… I’ll let you know when I’ll be in need of a healer.” _ Yes, I can do this... Anders, it hurts like hell... _

He nodded to her image in the mirror, and let his hands down, resting upon her shoulders for a painfully short moment.  _ She made the cut. _

“I’ll see myself out.”  _ My love… my Lyra. _ __

__

__


	17. The Sassy Assassin and the Mysterious Mage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another task for the Champion... I won't say more ;)  
> Some of the lines are direct rewrites from the game, it felt wrong to change them...  
> Soundtrack:  
> Not Today - Imagine Dragons  
> Special thanks to HQuin for super fast editing

Lyra Hawke stood in front of the armor stand in the corner of her fine room. Bedroom to be exact. With the luxurious large bed full of soft silk pillows and warm blankets. Unless she was curled up on the right side of it at nights, her bed was  _ empty _ . For three whole months she was sleeping alone, waking from her frequent nightmares still automatically reaching for her husband’s warm body and soothing hug. Only to find, her bed  _ empty _ . 

Anders was gone, and he took a part of her with him. The little girl, so well hidden from their everyday more hostile world, who surfaced in friend’s company and in intimate moments with her man. The silly jokes, carefree laughter, childish pouts, her naive hopes for the happy ever after in _ his  _ arms, all gone. Even her damned big fat tears dried up. As if the girl was cut out along with her long hair. The hair he loved so much, scorched by dragon’s firebreath, which he helped to cut short for her. A short cut. That was her now. A shortcut of Lyra Hawke. The Hawke.

After the dragon’s defeat she tried to go about her everyday business without Anders’ help, but whenever it came to fight, she was lost without her tall healer. She was so used to him guarding her back, healing even while she was in the consuming frenzy of her full attack, to the point she didn’t need to watch for her injuries at all. With such support gone, she became a danger to herself and ultimately to the whole party as well. Diving head first in fights without worrying for her potions reserve or measuring her opponent’s strength, nor calculating the risks for them all. 

As to be expected it resolved in a heated quarrel with Aveline and Varric this very afternoon. They came to her estate along with lightly chatting Isabella and more than usually sulking Fenris and as one voice demanded Anders’ being restored as an adequate member of their fighting squad. They even threatened to quit. As if they ever could! She knew, they won’t abandon her, after all they’ve been through, but that didn’t mean they would follow her blindly with their mouths shut. Especially not Varric. 

“I can’t cover all your rash actions from the rear, Hawke! Then I don’t have time to keep my own fine ass safe and sound! Besides I refuse to watch Blondie tear out his dashing hair over your damned cold corpse either. Cos ultimately he’ll blame me for your inevitable death, and I don’t fancy meeting his sparkly blue alterego. If you are not able to talk to him, fine! I’ll be the middle man, just PLEASE take him along to battle! Or switch your saviour-of-all career for wine or whore-selling-business.”

As to be expected, Isabella sneered. “Varric, I’m not for sale.” 

“Oh drop the virtuous act Rivaini, for a nice ship as a payment, you would bend for everyone. Broody might get some free though.” After the dwarf’s fitting remark, the pirate surprisingly didn’t take offence and just laughed. She batted her long eyelashes, blew a kiss in Fenris’ direction, and adjusted her magnificent bosom so it almost escaped its pathetic excuse of a decent garment.

Varric fell silent, eyeing Hawke with a piercing stare. She fidgeted with her half empty glass of brandy, watching the circling amber liquid for a while before drinking it all in one generous swig. Somehow she felt relieved, that her friends requested Anders’ presence. Finally she had a legitimate reason to approach him, check on his well-being, ask for his help. Which she needed badly. And all the hurt and emotional mess aside, she still wanted to help him with the mage underground dissent. Also down in her kitchen were three large sacks full of food and medical supplies for his clinic and Darktown’s poor starving souls. Waiting for her to deliver them with Orana as always. She and Anders simply would have to figure out a way to be around each other, otherwise they couldn’t both t carry on with their mission.  

“Fine Varric, have it your way then. We need to pay a visit to the Dalish. I don’t know, what to expect there. The bloke, Nuncio, seemed a little fishy, I don’t trust him. There’s got to be more to this assassin, than he’s saying to us. I don’t like killing the man with so little information. So you can ask Anders to come with us… if he’s not busy in the clinic, that is…. or whatever is he doing these days.”  _ Fuck, stop the embarrassing babbling Champion! _

Varric smiled. “I assure you he’ll come. And don’t worry about the clinic, the girl Anna is a great help to him, she’ll manage on her own for a bit.”

Lyra knew about this girl, but still it stung. So he’s not alone. Her man told her after Vengeance, in control of his body, made an attempt to kill her, that he can’t be around, as long as the Spirit is inside him. And now he keeps an assistant in the clinic?  _ Anders, it hurts like hell… _

“Varric, on second thought I’ll ask him on my own. But could you go with me? I have some supplies to deliver to the clinic… give me a hand, will you?”

“Sure Hawke. My strong back is yours. I’ll wait here, while you get dressed.”

The others left without delay, Aveline had to go back to the Viscount’s Keep, as it would probably crumble to dust in her absence. Isabella murmured something about taking Merrill to the market for shoes, another vain attempt no doubt. Fenris locked his beautiful eyes in hers for a moment and made something close to a reassuring smile. And of course left an expensive looking bottle on her messy writing desk on his way out.  

So now she put on her soft everyday leathers, sheathed her daggers and grabbed for a plain long black overcoat. There was no need to attract unwanted attention to herself on the way to Anders’ clinic. While putting on fine grey gloves, her eyes lingered on her engagement ring. It was a simple slender circlet made of dark red steel with smooth bright green stone with a blood red vein across its center. The stone was encased in a silver round frame, making the colors more distinct. And as always, it was pleasantly warm to touch. A mystery she failed to uncover from Sandal, who enchanted it for her. 

A shadow of a smile ran over her lips as she remembered Anders’ proposal. He caught her pleasuring herself, and with a hungry puppy expression blurted out his “marry me”. When she said “yes” he hastily stripped the fancy black suit, and stated, he wanted to do the proposal as it should be. Which obviously meant getting on his knees in all his naked glory, presenting this very ring… 

Hesitantly she pulled it down and stretched her fingers. It was just wrong. Her hand wasn’t complete without it, the missing warm metal sensation between her fingers made her feel uneasy, unintentionally she kept running her right forefinger along the lighter line the ring left behind. With a sad smile she put the ring back on. 

It was a damned beautiful memento, she just didn’t want to get rid of. This ring as well as all the memories that flooded her brain constantly, couldn’t ever be put aside, couldn’t ever be forgotten. Letting out a resigned sigh, she accepted the harsh true. The past happy times were all she had left of the love of her life. There won’t be more. From now on, they’re just two fellow fighters for the same cause. Surprisingly she grinned.  _ Two damn hot fighters… oh shit I even miss him between my legs… Anders, it hurts like hell. _

**The Clinic**

The two friends were standing silently in front of Anders’ clinic, Varric clearing his throat repeatedly, as huge sacks of supplies weighted him down. Lyra Hawke utterly lost in her thoughts, stared intently at the double door with lit lanterns above. 

_ This was a bad idea. _ Spending the last three months putting her shit together, she was confident and prepared to see him. The pain lost some of its intensity, it shifted to a constant feeling of emptiness, a vision of peaceful but dark and icy cold sea in her guts. When she would least expected it, a familiar object or action related to Anders created a powerful devastating wave that hit her hard. But it quickly calmed down, leaving only some drops of salt burning in her deeply scarred soul. Most of the time she felt numb, as if she was separated from her surroundings by a huge amount of water, which was absorbing much of her feelings and the former sharpness of her senses. There were no lifetaking storms on her inner sea anymore. 

Or so she thought. Until this very moment. Her insides tightened into knots, her heart raced like a runaway horse, she froze on spot, unable to move.  _ Brilliant, so I’ll just stand here until he or the girl comes out to turn off the lanterns. Looking like a frightened homeless kitten! Just move your damned ass, Hawke! _

“Ehm Hawke, I don’t wanna rush you, but I’m pretty sure something in that bag went terribly wrong and I have some awfully cold stuff running down my back…”

“Welcome to my world, Varric.”

……………………

Anders was nowhere in sight, only a tall, graceful blond girl who was cleaning the examination table. She was wiping away a quite large puddle of fresh blood with a sad expression on her nice young face. As she looked up to greet them, Lyra was strung with her deep amber eyes. Along with her slim and tall body build, dark blond hair and slender nose, the resemblance to Anders was too much to bear.  _ They would be perfect together!  _

“Varric, so nice to see you!” The girl’s grim expression lightened up significantly. Then she noticed Lyra and the genuine joy was replaced with a strange mixture of wariness, excited anticipation and could it be pity?  _ So she knows about us… how much did he tell her? _

“Serah Hawke, how could I help you?”

“Anna, is it? We’re here to see Anders, is he around?” She didn’t want to sound harsh, yet her voice and expression radiated coldness almost bordering on hostility. She stood with her chin held high, almost on tiptoes, in ridiculous attempt to match the assistant’s height. 

_ Oh drop your fucking act, you behave like a bitch fighting over a bone, not the fearless Champion! _

Her unexpected animosity effected Anna strongly, and she stammered. “Well I… I’m… yes… I mean he’s back… ehm back in the store room… I’ll get him immediately.” after a few rushed steps, the girl gathered back her wits and turned around to face them again. “We just lost a second patient today, and he’s not taking it well... please don’t upset him further.” She mumbled the last few words in direction of Lyra’s shoes, clearly uneasy to ask anything from the famous rogue, especially making such a delicate request. 

Lyra suppressed her first instinctive rash reaction, the girl meant well and the hurt she dealt wasn’t intentional.  _ I won’t be any less upset than he is… and if I could I would shield him from any pain never add more. But we need to work together. _

“I understand, Anna. Please go get him.”

Anna’s long ponytail disappeared in the store room’s door and although Lyra couldn’t understand what was she saying to Anders, the worry, love and care in her voice were unmistakable. A moment later Anders appeared and headed towards them. Lyra’s throat tightened, as she saw her husband for the first time after three long months. He lost weight, his worn leather pants loose around his hips, he needed a belt to keep them from falling down. There were dark shadows around his eyes, his hair significantly longer, the usual sexy stubble grown into a beard. Yet a genuine smile lightened up his face and Lyra had to fight hard her primal instinct to run and get lost in his arms, in his body heat, in his scent. But that would be the little girl’s action. Who wasn’t in charge of her anymore. She was the Hawke. And Anders greeted her as such.

“Hawke, I’m so happy to see you! You look good.” Anders eyes almost sparkled, he didn’t realize how much he ached for her presence. Putting aside their romance, he missed her as a true friend and companion. She brought joy and light in his miserable existence no matter what. After the dragon fight and his last painful visit in hers and also, for a brief moment, his former home, the depression send him right to the bottom. 

After a few days he slowly managed to swim back up, breathing more freely on the water surface. His work along with Anna kept him from drowning in despair. First he had doubts about letting her continue assisting him, he was worried about her safety as well as Lyra’s. Her valuable help and the fact, that she was around him and Justice only in the, so far Templar free, clinic convinced him to let her stay. And he needed someone to keep him sane… connected to the physical world. 

As Justice grew stronger, the Fade kept luring him in, the etheric realm of both spirits and demons, where he would be trapped in his worst neverending nightmare… But now his Sun, Lyra, was here, and with her the new possibilities, the renewed purpose of his life, the cause he fought for. He knew she needed his help, as he needed hers.  _ They will heal, they will work, and together they will free the mages from their shackles. That is if Varric keeps the deal to guard them all against Vengeance. At all costs. _

**Sundermount**

The well formed group of seven fighters progressed quickly through the underground rocky maze. They were finally in the assassin’s hide-out, Variel pointed to them back in the Dalish camp.

And of course there were spiders. Poisonous, giant spiders. Lyra always hated their many fluffy legs, they were moving in an absurd and creepy pattern, making a highly unpleasant rustling sound, that echoed through the cave. Yet now she laughed, practically bounced with joy while dealing deadly cuts in a wide perimeter. She had her healer to back her up. And it felt good. The balance was restored and she could dive into the battle with all her heart. The world was full of colors and sharp sounds, she felt alive, awaken from the three month slumber. The Hawke was free to fly and kill.

Her mind flooded with adrenalin, she screamed enthusiastically, when another spacy cave opened to her sight. “By my only butt freckle, what’s that rocky five legged monster?! Oh this will be fun! Varric, cover me!” And she ran without the slightest hesitation on the three times higher creature.

“Oh Creators! Hawke wait! It’s a Varterral! It spits caustic poison all over!” Merrill screamed at the top of her lungs after Kirkwall’s dumb Champion.

Aveline sprinted after her in desperate attempt to taunt the monster to attack her instead. She could take cover behind her large shield, Lyra had nothing but her light leather armor and two sharp daggers.

The others approached cautiously, keeping their distance, except for Fenris, who freed his greatsword and, with low rumble in his chest, followed quickly in Hawke’s and Aveline’s footsteps. Isabella shouted something about staying in the rear, as backup and on guard for more spiders, clearly not keen to have her fine, smooth and almost bare skin damaged with acid.

Varric and Merrill stayed near a large rock, which could serve as a sufficient cover, and shot bolts and spells with all their might. Anders sent a powerful lightning bolt, hitting the creature’s head with a loud crack, sparks flying high. Then he focused on Lyra, healing spell already shimmering in his palm. 

Lyra moved like a ball of energy, and with almost supernatural speed cut each of Varterral’s stony legs deep, her dragon bone daggers screeching in protest. She was about to leap as high as possible in bold attempt to cut the creature’s belly, but before she could bounce from a nearby rock a stream of white a sticky poison hit her square in her chest. 

Anders released the healing spell in an instant, screaming at Aveline to divert the beast sideways, so he could get to Lyra, and bring her to safety. The guard captain, along with Fenris, taunted the moving rock to go after them, though it was moving slower after the significant damage they already dealt to it. Anders ran to retrieve Lyra, who was lying unconscious in the puddle of bubbling poison. He lifted her in his arms easily and carried her to Isabella’s safe position, ignoring the stinging pain, as the acid feasted on his bare hands. The pirate ran to him, shouting an offer of help, but he just sent her into the fight. The rest of the party would need every hand against the ancient horror.

He dropped into a sitting position, lowering his unconscious petite patient on the rocky ground. With a quick cast he neutralized the poison on both of their bodies and washed Lyra’s chest and his hands in a powerful healing and rejuvenating spell. As the warm green energy wave dissolved in their flesh, and relieved all the searing pain, he smiled and gently brushed a short black lock from her forehead. 

Some unknown force squeezed his hammering heart, he felt both joy and pain, a strong, bittersweet mixture he welcomed sincerely. It meant life. Lyra was life, no matter how much he was hurting, he can’t not see her. It was worth the world of pain to him. Hopefully Varric would honor the deal and intervened if Vengeance became a threat. He tried to notice her scent, but it was buried beneath a pungent acid smell of the Varterral’s poison. So he leaned closer, his nose almost touching the pulse point beneath her ear, he caught a hint of lavender and her own sweet essence. As a content moan escaped his lips, Lyra’s eyes opened and with a startled gasp she shot up, their foreheads bumping together, a dull sound audible in the cave. 

“Ouch, that is supposed to be my reward for healing you… L… ehm Hawke?” Anders chuckled, held one hand on his hurting head while gesturing Lyra to come closer, and let him heal her once more. Although her injury wasn’t severe, he felt relieved and genuinely happy to see Lyra back on her feet.  

“I’m… I’m fine and sorry… for bumping you… I mean your forehead. Ehm...We need to get back help the others.”  _ He was too damn close to me!  _ His amber eyes, his body heat, his silky hair in the familiar half-ponytail, the short beard with some whites in its dark honey color and his scent, which always made her lose any coherent thought. Yet her affection and desire were mixed with wariness, the image of Anders advancing on her, radiating icy cold blue light, ready to kill, made her back to safer distance. 

She regained her inner balance and pushed the uninvited feelings back, in the deepest corner of her soul. She had good practice now, with daddy, Carver and mother already hidden back there, their ghosts reappearing only when triggered by unexpected reminders. Mother’s favorite flowers, dad’s beloved smelly cheese, or Carver’s… hmm there was nothing that made her think of Carver besides very dirty socks. Now her husband was locked inside too, preferably never to be released. Truth be told, she felt a little annoyed that her carefully built inner wall couldn’t hold this confusion of intense feelings and hurt, all triggered only by his light touch and physical proximity.  _ Get a grip on yourself, Hawke! There are things you’re supposed to be killing right now _

Anders knew better than to prolong this clearly uncomfortable moment for her. Their renewed partnership in fight was all he could hope for. Suddenly they both felt the ground shake, followed by a deafening sound of rolling rocks. Anders jumped to her, holding her tight to his chest, standing with widespread legs to maintain their balance. Lyra closed her eyes, and tried to relax her rigid muscles, he was safe, no matter how brief the moment would be. Anders let his cheek rest on the top of her head, yet despite the enormous effort it took to be parted, he let her go the moment the sounds and movement passed.  

“Anders, what the fuck was that?”   

The tall mage looked past her, searching for their companions in the depth of the cave, full of flying dust from the rock avalanche. “There’s no need to fret, my…. ehm Hawke. They brought the beast down. Varric is doing his happy dance right now, look at that juicy bouncing ass!”

It was so good to laugh together again! For the second time in this afternoon Lyra was free and careless, not burdened by all the other people’s crap she usually carried on her shoulders. It felt like Anders pulled her up above the water, to take a quick deep savory breath, steal a glimpse of the shining sun, enjoy the warm breeze caressing her cheeks. She even made a step back towards him, to kiss the tip of his exquisite long nose, a way she used to express her upmost happiness. But her damned conscience intervened violently.  _ He tried to kill you, he’s not in control! _ The precious moment passed and she felt like sinking down below the water, her limbs heavy, all sounds muffled, all light and colors dimmed into various shades of grey.  _ Time to move! _

They caught up with the others, Anders healed a few burns, scratches and Isabella’s crushed foot, the reason she was cursing in languages they hadn’t even heard of. 

There was a theatrical cough, someone cleared his throat right behind them! Lyra spun with daggers ready to be thrown or stabbed into the coughing bastard, and met curious and amused brown eyes of an impressive elf. To be honest, she stared back at him with her mouth open. He was all tanned in the color of fresh honey, clad in light fine leathers, perfectly defined muscles a bit tensed, ready to run or strike, in contrary to his relaxed facial features.

Shiny blond hair, carefully braided on the sides, were touching his shoulders, and a playful grin danced on his full lips. Lyra suddenly had a strange vision they were on a sunny beach, basking on golden sand, pleasant warm feeling spilled over her skin. She was so gloriously warm, just the perfect tiny bit below the threshold of hotness. 

“Now you, I wasn’t expecting.”  _ Oh fuck, his accent is pure sex. Maybe too much sex… when is sex too much? Damn it!  _

Unintentionally she backed away a few steps and collided with Anders, who grabbed her waist to regain balance.  _ His oh so familiar hands! _ She felt their warmth even through her leathers. He let go almost instantly, but the intimate feeling lingered.  _ I want to go back on the beach with you again and just stay there! I swear I would scare Justice out of you just with my kisses… oh what’s wrong with me today?! Apparently I’m the Whiny and Drooly Champion now! _

Before she could form any decent retort, Isabella stepped forward, swaying her hips ridiculously. “I thought I smelled Antivan leather.”

The rogue elf burst into a jovial laugh. “Hahahah Isabella! If it isn’t my favorite pirate wench.”

The very same pirate wench giggled like an innocent young virgin. “Shouldn’t you be dead by now?”

Revealing perfect, maybe even exaggeratedly white teeth, the elf replied. “I could say the same my dear. It seems we were both fortunate to find powerful friends, no?” He turned his full attention on Lyra. Suddenly she wished her hair wasn’t a short, unruly mess. And surely she wasn’t clean and fragrant after all the fighting and rolling on dusty ground. Lyra quickly checked the state of her dishevelment, a red blush spreading over her cheeks. Her leather corset was a mess, the acid had eaten through it and her undershirt significantly, her bosom was exposed almost to Bella’s standard, and there was a huge gash in her pants, revealing her upper thigh almost to the pelvic bone. All of course covered in dust and blood.     

Nevertheless the elf stared her up and down and clearly liked what he saw. His gaze kept running between her heaving breasts and her eyes, locking them in an intense glare. “How do you do? My name is Zevran Arainai, adventurer and occasional assassin.”

Anders, standing behind Lyra, tensed, wary and ready to cast, with the slightest indication of an attack. He disliked the elf from the first time he revealed his perfect teeth in a cocky smile. Yet the name triggered a memory of his dear friend and former Warden Commander. His curiosity needed to be satisfied. “I’ve heard about you. You helped the Hero of Ferelden stop the Blight.”  

Zevran didn’t acknowledge Anders’ icy tone and continued in a light and friendly manner. He even made a theatrical yet very elegant curtsy. “At your service, my friend. I must admit I was waiting on an assault from the Crows, not the mighty Champion of Kirkwall.”

_ The mighty Champion of Kirkwall? In burned leathers and filth all over me? Ha! Bet your ass I’m mighty!  _ Lyra lifted her eyebrow in an perfect arch, a gesture of self-confidence and sharp mind, Anders loved so much. Of course she knew about the Antivan Crows. One did not simply be around Isabella and not hear some gruesome and exciting stories about the Guild. Yet something else needed her deeper inquiry. “How do you know I’m the Champion?”

Zevran smiled and once again stared her down, while letting out an appreciative barely audible whistle. “Slayer of Qunari, Deep Roads explorer and a beauty to make the gods jealous? You underestimate your fame.”

There was a noise, something in between cough and growl, and she felt Anders tight grip on her waist. She let him have this possessive gesture, yet felt once more a mixture of sorrow and annoyance by such intimate contact.  _ I’m no longer yours to protect.  _

She continued to question the assassin. Her companion - the pirate wench, as the elf called her, clearly had some, let’s go for colorful, past with him. “How do you two know each other?”

Zevran shot another dashing smile, accompanied with a quick lick of his upper lip, the gesture quite clear to everyone, besides Merrill of course. “How does anyone know Isabella?”

The pirate, far from contradicting him, sniggered. “Yes well, you’ll never know Isabella again if you keep that up…”

Zevran then explained all about the Crows’ and Nuncio’s hunt for him, how they won’t let him leave the Guild alive. Nuncio was clearly accusing him of crimes he didn’t commit and Lyra felt inclined to believe him. Not that he hadn’t have blood on his hands, but not in a much different way than she.  

So she turned to Isabella for an assurance. “You know him best, what do you think?”

The pirate wench ran her palm absentmindedly over her breast. And shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve had better.”

“I meant about letting him go or not!” Lyra started to enjoy this conversation a great deal, grateful it once again penetrated her gloomy gloom, as Bella frequently referred to her state of mind lately. Varric’s chuckles from the back were bordering on a hiccup.

Isabella rolled her eyes at Zevran and uttered in a pretend bored tone. “Oh right, I’d let him go.”

The sassy assassin smiled, and warned them against Nuncio. Apparently they now needed to kill him, or he would hunt after them.  _ Oh very well, we will take the bastard down, preferably sooner than later. _

Another curtsy and Zevran was on his way out of the cave. “It has been more than a pleasure my dear Champion. I fare you well.”

**The Wounded Coast**

The moment she confronted Nuncio is his own camp, Zevran showed once more and together they made a quick work through his mediocre fighters. To the end of the fight there was an odd crackling sound, Lyra searched for its source and found the last four archers broke apart, as they were frozen to the bone from a damned powerful Winter Grasp spell. A very tiny elven mage was descending down the bushy slope, all clad in deep warden blue, a simple yet fine black leather traveling cloak with silver sparkling stars on the hood. She moved with confident grace, quickly, with her chin held high. Her long and shiny blond curls cascaded down, almost to her waist, she had the Ferelden’s amber eyes, round and bright. They lingered on Lyra, but then widened with genuine surprise, as they focused on something behind the Champion. The elf let out a startled gasp, and broke into a run. “By my Creators, yours greedy Maker and damned hot Andraste! Anders, to the Fade with you! Gimme one reason I shouldn’t set your fine ass on fire!” Breathless she collided into his chest, while simultaneously jumping with joy. 

Anders hugged her tight, tugging on her curls playfully. “Sorry little Pumpkin, I missed you too.”

_ Oh how I missed her indeed! With her by my side all the Lyra mess might not have happened at all, Lis was always my conscience and Sun warmed rock.   _


	18. Traps of Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> camping could be fun, more or less... surprisingly SFW, even with brandy and hot Zevran present :D
> 
> Song for the ending scene:  
> Chasing Cars - Snowpatrol
> 
> as always special thanks to TurboNerd for her edit skills... check out her modern AU Sketchbook Girl, with a lot of hot Zevran and cute friendly Anders popping in

**Sundermount - Nuncios’ former Camp**

Lyra Hawke stared in utter disbelief at the scene right in front of her; Anders hugging some Grey Warden elven mage, calling her pet names. The woman was a rare beauty, and obviously overjoyed by seeing him here.

Hawke heard the rest of the party murmuring, Isabella was clearly talking to her, but she was deaf. Deaf and blind to all but the two blonde mages, locked in a tight embrace, radiating sheer happiness from their clearly unexpected reunion. She felt sick to her stomach. Of course she knew Anders had some past, a rather colorful one from all the bits she put together, yet she thought he shared all of his most important relationships with her. She knew about the first girl he lost his virginity to, although he alone called it a ‘funship’, which didn’t last more than three nights, as well as a fair number of others following, while he was locked and bored to death in the Circle. And then it was all about Karl, although he admitted to have ‘a skirt, ten at most’ on his travels. But the way he was looking at this tiny golden haired elf, such love and tenderness lightened up his facial features, Hawke was certain he withheld a significant relationship - even love from her. This couldn’t have been a casual, short dalliance.

Then all of the sudden, the woman was standing right in front of her, studying her openly, for a torturously long moment. Although the Warden was even smaller than she, there was such a powerful energy field around her, the Champion herself felt tiny, powerless and insignificant in the mage’s close presence. Unintentionally, her fingers closed tightly around her dagger grips, knuckles turning white. Then the elf’s wide smile lit up, and it felt completely different; her energy was no less potent, but oh so warm and nurturing, Lyra couldn’t help it but let it embrace her, soothing her nerves, slowing her racing heart.

 

 

“I’m very pleased to meet you finally, Lyra Amellia Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall! I’ve heard such thrilling stories at inns and markets I’ve visited on my travels!” Her voice was lively, and pleasant, she spoke with a melodic rhythm, which only strengthened her charm.

“I assure you, only a few of them are true. And it’s just Hawke.” Lyra mustered a coherent answer, very much to her own surprise.

“So Hawke, you don’t fight with bared breasts, rip Qunari’s ears off, or my personal favorite, throw dinner parties in the Gallows with wild orgies for dessert? I wouldn’t be surprised, you have my favorite naughty pirate in your close company!”

“No, I don’t. Though the current state of my leathers may say otherwise, it’s just the result of a recent fight against the Varterral… pardon me, but although you know my name, I haven’t heard yours?”

The elf smiled even wider if it was possible, and offered her hand. “I’m Callista Surana. Call me Lis.”

Hawke stared at the tiny hand, hovering in between them, waiting to be shaken. She just didn’t want to touch it. Until she did, all of this mess might not be real. A nightmare only. _Manners, Hawke! Shake her hand, damn it!_

There was a familiar chuckle nearby. “Pumpkin, you forgot to add your kickass titles! Hawke, meet my dear old friend from the Circle, my Warden Commander from Amaranthine and the Hero of Ferelden.” Anders beamed, his face lit up, as if someone presented him with a basket of kittens.

Lyra’s heart skipped a beat. _What did he just say?_ As much as she was shocked and humbled a moment ago, now a spark flew over and she was on fire. And the flames leaped to burn Anders. She rounded on him, her forefinger digging sharply into his chest with each word. “You know the Hero! Why did you keep that from me? How long have you two been together? She was your first, wasn’t she? And then you continued in Amaranthine! You were on your own back then, without Justice... so pretty free to… ” she slapped him in the face with all force, leaving red imprints on his cheek  “to _fuck_ ...anyone you desired! No, no, no, you weren’t just _fucking,_ you were in love! And obviously you still are smitten with her!” She ended her rant gasping for air, breasts heaving quickly, threatening to spill free from her ruined corset.

Anders backed away all the while she pressed on, bewildered, hands up in a surrendering gesture, eyes never leaving her flushed face. He sensed she needed this badly, such a passionate person simply had to let her long bottled up emotions out, although he had no idea, where all the silly jealousy came from.

The Champion was pissed. _Oh Maker, so fucking FURIOUS!_ However did she get here? She was fine, perfectly happy with her life, until she walked into his damned clinic! One look in his amber eyes and she was lost. A few _years_ later, they were living together, married. She even was so naive to think, they had a future! She was blind to all of his baggage - Justice cohabitating his gorgeous body, apostate on endless run and Warden in hiding… maybe if they weren’t in Kirkwall, in this time… And now after all the shit that happened, she was almost on her feet again... not herself, not Lyra… but as Hawke she was fine, she was funcional. It all came rushing back with this damned gorgeous Hero of Ferelden! Oh how she was jealous of her! The elf shared Anders’ past, she knew him on his own, without the interfering parasitic Spirit. She knew the boy and man he was before the fate decided to beat him beyond anything one person could possibly withstand. Realizing this, Hawke froze on spot, her hot flame of rage extinguished at once. She couldn’t bear this. The fact that she was robbed of a chance for real happiness. _My fucking fate is to be late. Late to save dad, Carver, Mother, late to hide Beth from the Templars. Late to get the whole and intact man I love… loved._  

“I should go… “ She stepped away from Anders, despite the strong urge to collapse in his arms, and with her head down she turned to the path leading back to the city. “It was nice to meet you, Warden Commander.”

Anders caught up with her in three strides of his long legs, made an attempt to grab her hand, but thought better of it, stopping in the last moment before the actual touch. “Lyra, wait. Let me explain. Please.”

She refused to look at him. “Don’t you “Lyra” me…” To let her frustration out, she kicked quite a large rock with her boot and screamed from pain mixed with fury and despair. Hopping on one foot, cursing Maker and all damned hot mages, she waved off his offer to heal her toes. Yet she felt the warm healing energy washing over her throbbing foot.

“Darn it woman, you can’t keep sneaking on people like this!” She didn’t care if it was the Hero or Andraste herself, no one would heal her without her consent!

“I’m sorry, Hawke! I just wanted to help, and I need you stop yelling curses, so I can talk to you!” The Warden’s genuine smile and caring tone annoyed Lyra even more.

“There’s nothing to talk about, I’m leaving.” She saw the look Anders quickly exchanged with the tiny elf, and it stung so bad, she wished the ground would open up and swallowed her whole. Yet she lingered, let herself to be hurt even more, waiting for clear confirmation of the nightmare possessing her bewildered mind. _I was so sure he loved me and trusted me with all his secrets!_   

The clear misery in Lyra’s face, she was not able to hide anymore, made the Hero stop smiling, her face suddenly full of sincere compassion and urgency. “Hawke listen to me. Anders and I are just friends, from the first day we bumped into each other in the Circle’s kitchens, stealing cookies. Andy helped me a lot, it wasn’t easy for an elven girl to fit in and avoid all the dangers. He kept me safe and I tried my best to cover his escapes. We were both fortunate to be freed from that tower, no matter the cost, we were breathing the fresh air of freedom. Fate brought us together in Vigil’s Keep again, I was finally able to get him a kitten and he repaid me in faking his own death apparently. Which will cost you, my dear bro!” And she stomped hard on Anders’ left foot.

“Ouch, Lis that hurts!”

“Shut it and heal yourself, you tall baby!” She snapped at him and turned back to Hawke.

“So it appears this gorgeous idiot charmed you and then fucked it all up, typical. Yet you keep him around, for some reason. My dear, I want to hear it all and make it better. Believe me, I have practice in such situations…”

Anders wailed nearby. “Lis! For your blasted Creators, stop trashing me! Now I knew why I let you believe I’m dead! To have my innocent reputation back!”

Callista sniggered. “Stop deluding yourself, that ship has sailed when you were about ten, chasing girls to look beneath their skirts. Now, I suggest we stay here overnight, the camp seems pretty well supplied, there are 3 tents and some bottles of fine looking brandy. I would love to know you better and catch up with Ser Pouty here. I have no intention to visit Kirkwall, and besides I’m on a mission and had to leave in the morning anyway. What do you say, Hawke?”

The Champion stared blankly at nearby bush for a while, woken from her trance by a tiny golden-brown bunny jumping out of it only to dive behind a big, moss covered rock. _Excellent Hawke, you acted like a jealous bitch in front of the Hero of Ferelden! I have to pull my shit together!_

After taking a deep breath to calm her stressed body and buzzing mind, she nodded to the tiny elf. “Well I don’t have other plans for tonight and there’s brandy, so fine. And I apologize to you for my outburst. Lis.” It felt odd to call the Hero of Ferelden by name, but the longer she spent in the famous mage’s company, the more difficult it became not to feel warm towards her, even comfortable in her presence.

“Hawke, Blondie, stop occupying the Hero of Ferelden! I need to ask her about… well, basically everything! The old blighted times and the nights at the camp in particular!” Varric shouted over all the noise and laughter Zevran and Bella were producing, while catching up with their adventures.

…………….

Lyra sat on a log, an opened bottle propped against her ankle, staring into the lively dancing flames. She loved fire, almost as much as the sea. The bright colors, yellow, orange and bloody red, leaping, swirling against the blackened sky, sparks flying high, only to turn into dust and smoke. They are like us, we shine and fly, only to fall down and die.

She snuggled deeper in the blanket Anders wordlessly handed to her, after she returned from her cleansing swim in a nearby lake. Her leathers were ruined from the Varterral’s poisonous acid, so she slipped into a clean shirt she kept in her backpack, along with a pair of spare leather pants. Blinking away the exhaustion, that fell on her a while ago, she took in the company. Aveline left for some urgent city business, Fenris accompanying her, they were clearly not comfortable in the Hero’s presence. That left Isabella, Varric, Merrill, Anders and her with the blond elves - Callista and Zevran.

An amused grin twisted her lips, Varric finally released Lis from his grasp, only to question Zevran, in hope to get some really exciting stories out of the cocky assassin. The elf obviously enjoyed all the attention, as well as having Isabella sitting across his lap, letting him kiss, caress and squeeze any part of her juicy flesh.

Merrill sat beside her, she was literally radiating excitement from her every pore, eyes twice their usual size, she looked like a newborn baby deer. “The Hero is so beautiful and shiny! Did you see her hair? She looks like a midday Sun and smells like a meadow! Do you think she would talk to me? Or maybe let me braid her hair?” Merrill covered her mouth in an embarrassed gesture. “Oh why would she! I’m nobody!”

Lyra held her friend’s shaking hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Merrill, stop fretting. She’s actually very nice and I’m positive, she would even let you braid twigs and bugs in her hair.”

Merrill eyes widened to a ridiculous size. “Twigs and bugs? I was thinking of some flowers or fragrant herbs… what kind of bugs do you have in mind?”

Lyra smiled, the good brandy, needed rest and warm fire had cheered her up significantly. “I’m just messing with you! Just go and talk to her, when she’s finished catching up with Anders.”

Merrill hit her forehead with her palm hard. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m so selfish! How are you feeling? I can make a daisy-chain for you, add some twigs and bugs to cheer you up. How do you feel about cockroaches?” The cute elf was clearly pleased with herself for making a witty comment.

“I prefer feathers and night-butterflies actually.” _They are attracted to deadly flames as well as me, it seems. And I wish I could wear black feathers forever…_ She smiled, her booze soaked brain producing an image of herself, dressed in nothing but his black feathery coat. Looking up over the dancing flames, Lyra's eyes focused on her husband engaged deeply in a passionate conversation with the tiny sunny elf. The Hero of Ferelden.

………………………..

Callista couldn’t be more pissed at him, even if he used blood magic or killed a cat, it wouldn't be so bad. She felt the Spirit in him right away, but kept her mouth shut till there was time and place for a private eye to eye. “Anders, what were you thinking, to let Justice in your body? You’re an idiot! Oh don’t give me those hurt puppy eyes, you know I’m right!”

Anders broke their eye contact, feeling hurt, miserable, guilty and indeed like an idiot. “Fine, you’re right. I shouldn’t have done it. It all went wrong and instead of a savior to the mages, I became a danger to everyone.” His voice broke, eyes darted to Lyra on their  own accord and he added in almost inaudible whisper. “Even to my wife.”

Lis gaped at him, trying hard to keep her voice down. “She’s your WIFE? Andy, what happened? Talk to me, maybe I can help.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell… yes, she’s my wife, although not officially, I can’t have a legal marriage… but all the same, we had a ceremony and were living together… until I oh fuck…” Anders buried his face behind his palms. _How can I tell Lis, I almost killed her because she wanted to stop me from blowing up Rutherford?_

He felt her tiny hand on his knee, she just let it rest and pour some calming healing energy into him. Waiting patiently for him to get it together, Callista tried hard to hide her misery. She was so overjoyed to see him, safe and sound, a dream came true, as she already mourned him, accepted her big brother was gone for good. Yet now it seemed he was in more trouble than ever, more than she could solve and heal. “Andy, talk to me, you need to share it, there has to be a way to make it better.”

He looked up, ran his fingers through his dark blond messy hair, a familiar gesture she knew very well, from all the times he felt lost, unsure what to do next. His amber eyes got caught in the flames, he couldn’t say it to her face, to see yet another dear person hurt with his horrid actions.  

“I got into a fight with some thugs, Vengeance took over, we tore them into pieces, but a Templar saw me. He chased after me and then Lyra got between us, she was trying to stop me from killing him… and Vengeance, well I attacked her, aimed to kill, to get her out of our way… in the very last moment before my lightning bolt hit her, I regained control and encased her in my barrier…”

In the firelight Callista saw a single tear running down his cheek, getting lost in his dark honeyed beard. She glanced over to the spot, Hawke was sitting with her brandy bottle, taking a generous gulp, her green eyes glassy, black hair shining with scarlet shades. The rogue looked tired, and probably thank to the alcohol in her veins, at peace with herself at last. Yet based on her emotional actions and her body language in Anders’ presence, Callista had no doubt, she loved him truly. She tried to imagine, what it must feel like, to have your beloved attack you, to lose the safety of his arms, to watch him being possessed, turned into a killing monster. How could Hawke manage to have him around and be able to think, to move, to care for anything else beside the pain and chaos in her mind? Once, she too was in love and had her heart broken to thousand pieces, yet time was merciful to her, and it was easier to lock her pain away, as she never saw him again. But these two need to be around each other, to fight and work side by side almost every day. _What a mess!_

“Andy, is there a way out? For you and Justice?”

“No. I have to be killed, my body destroyed beyond repair, for him to leave… there’s nothing you can do, Pumpkin... Nevertheless I spend my time trying to work and help the mages, but I fear there’s no peaceful way. Lis it’s horrible, here in Kirkwall especially. The Knight-Commander is abusing her power, making Tranquils left and right, killing and turning the Circle into a real prison… the Grand Cleric is a useless hag, she refuse to intervene.”

“I think it's time for us mages to rise, Andy, I really do. But now I’m on another mission for the Wardens and honestly I’ve run into a dead end. Nevertheless I promise you, when I’m done, I’ll do everything in my power to change the unjust system…” She hesitated for a tense moment, gathering courage for another potential blow. “I’m afraid to ask… Karl?”

Ander closed his eyes for a brief moment and shook his head. “He’s gone. Lis, I feel like I’m drowning all the time and now I can’t even control my own actions. I’m dangerous, no matter how badly I want to help and keep my… my wife and friends safe. Varric promised to take care of Vengeance, of me, if I become a threat… but honestly, I’m not sure the work I’m doing is worth the risks. I have a clinic for the poor, I even have a girl to assist me and together we save many poor souls… Lyra is providing us with supplies generously… yet I’m torn between my need to see her and keep her away for her own safety… Lis, what do I do?”

He searched her compassionate eyes for answers, she always looked at the bright side, found something good about every bump in the road, it was her gift. Sometimes pretty annoying to be honest, as he liked to sulk and feel miserable for a while. Yet now, now he wanted nothing else, than to see her wide smile, a clever solution on her lips.

“I… I don't know, I wish I did… I should talk to her, maybe I can figure something out when I get the whole picture.” She kissed him on his forehead and ruffled his hair playfully. “You should get a haircut and a proper shave, you’re starting to look like a freakishly tall grumpy dwarf.”

“Oh thanks, that’s what I needed to hear, Pumpkin.”

……….

The Hero and the Champion spent half the evening talking, Lyra tried to keep her distance, but Lis’ charm was impossible to resist and she ended up spilling her heart out, words and feelings pouring out of her, wave after wave. It was a crazy tide, memory after memory kept rushing out, some of them happy, some just adding salt into her wounds. Callista listened intently, encouraging Lyra to go on, to relieve all the bottled up emotions, which must have been eating her inside out.

Lyra paused and smiled at the tiny elf. “You know, I wanted to pull out your gorgeous golden curls not long ago, and now I really like you. You sure you don’t have the ability to turn back time? If you could only rewind and get Anders out of Cullen’s way... “

Callista tensed, taking a deep breath to calm herself. _There must be a lot of Cullens amongst the Templars! Yet she felt anxious, needed to know for sure._

“I’m sorry, Cullen who?” Her voice came out raw and husky, and she unconsciously curled up her hands, nails digging deep into her palms, knuckles turning white.

“Cullen Rutherford, he’s the Knight-Captain. Oh haven’t you two known each other from the Ferelden’s Circle? Lis, is something wrong?”

The Hero avoided her new friend’s inquiring look. _Why am I reacting so strongly to this? It happened ages ago, so much is different now._ “Yes, I know him from the Circle. He was my first.”

Lyra gasped in shock. The Hero of Ferelden was involved with Cullen? More importantly, Cullen the Templar? _Oh my, why can’t we have it simple? We should love someone like… oh fuck I don’t know any nice men who are not neck deep in shit, do I? Perhaps Senechal Bran... oh really?_

“We sure can pick our men, can’t we?” A sarcastic giggle escaped her lips, and shortly the Champion was holding her stomach, her whole body shaking with waves of hysterical laughter. Callista looked at her, still processing the fact, that Cullen is here in Kirkwall and Anders tried to kill him. If this woman didn’t intervene, he could be dead by now. Hawke began to snort through her nose, tears running down her cheeks, she just couldn’t stop.

It took only a short moment until both the Champion of Kirkwall and the Hero of Ferelden were on the ground hugging each other and shaking in a heavy storm of guffaw.

The entire camp watched them in astonishment, Zevran ceased the inspection of Isabella’s tonsils, Varric shouted merrily. “Someone give me a quill or a rat’s tail, anything to write with! This story will be magnificent! Would you mind to kiss a bit?”

Anders remained seated across the fire from the two women, women whom he loved so much his heart ached. The tiny wrinkles around his eyes cringed, as a content smile settled on his lips. He had to treasure each such moment, as he might be dead the next morning.

……….

They shared a light meal, dried meat, cheese, bread and apples and then sat around the fire, talking over one another, exchanging funny stories and jokes, rollicking like carefree teenagers. For once no one was interested in the Blight, mages versus Templars and other buzzkilling problems of Thedas. They just wanted to have fun, even if it came with a little pretending. The worries could wait till tomorrow.

“... cos he couldn’t have enough of those sweet cookies, we got on special occasions, Anders decided to strip in the middle of the dining hall, to demonstrate his poor nutrition state, holding his breath to emphasize his showing ribs and tiny tushie. Grand you, there was quite a tiny thing in the front too!”

“You deceitful little Pumpkin of Ferelden! How dare you let out such evil lie! Fine, I’ll prove you wrong if I must, right here in the flattering fire light!” Anders stood up and shook of his coat, then with an expressive theatrical quirk of his eyebrows, unbuckled his pants. _Do I dare to tease her yet? I’m going to risk it..._

“Hawke, are you gonna vow for my magnitude, or what?”

Lyra giggled, she felt so good with the significant amount of brandy running in her veins, she stood up, balancing on unsteady legs, and held her hands apart to show the approximate length of Anders’ pride.

Isabella chuckled. “No way, Hawke! My friend in the Pearl told me! He’s above average but not Archdemon sized!”

Anders pretended to be gravely offended, pouting his lips on the rogue. “Just you wait my dear pirate wench, I might sneak in on you at night to give you a private show.”

“It’s not your size I’m interested in, it’s the electricity trick, my magical boy.” Varric whistled at that point, murmuring something about naughty pirates and irresistible mages.

Anders locked his eyes in Lyra’s for a brief moment, such hunger and passion reflecting in their amber depths, her heart rate shot up at the same speed as the sparks were flying high to the sky. Her husband broke their eye contact to save himself from jumping on her, and grinned in his typical charming way. “Sorry Bella, Hawke has the exclusive right to all of my electricity.”

Varric sensed out Lyra’s composure and self-control began to crumble, so he rushed in to interrupt the tense moment. “Tune down the sparkle, Blondie. I would like to hear more funny stories about the Hero’s companions. For science, you know, the writer’s burden of eternal research.”

Callista, following Varric’s rescue attempt, quickly searched her mind for something to keep the company merry, the image of her dear friend and second brother of sorts projected in front of her eyes. She missed Alistair nearly as much as she missed Anders. Everytime she ate cheese or saw a red haired warrior, a strong memory surfaced. Sometimes it was just a flash of a fighting scene, blood and gore everywhere, Alistair swinging his heavy sword or ramming his shield into Darkspawn, setting them flying backwards. But she sure could find some happy ones too, he managed to reverse almost any fucked up situation into a chuckle.

“Well I have a few funny stories indeed, all of them featuring my brother in arms, Alistair Therin…”

“Oh the cute tank with the exquisite tushie, who blushed so quickly?” Isabella was beaming, pleasantly surprised the boring looking mission took such an interesting turn.

Callista’s warm eyes twinkled. “Yes, that’s the one. Hm, let me see… I think I’ll share one memory, particularly appealing to the ladies. First to fill you in I have to introduce Morrigan, an apostate witch, daughter of Flemeth I believe you’ve met already. Ali and she were constantly bitching and trying to drive one other crazy. So there we were camping near a lake, on a very hot day and Ali decided to go for a swim. The rest of us were setting up the camp, preparing dinner, then suddenly he burst in, sprinting at top speed, completely naked, screaming at the top of his lungs, his hair covered with frost. Seeing us,  he calmed down a bit, then realised he was completely on display and tried to hide in Lelianna’s half erected tent, ending up on the ground in a mess of canvas and ropes, with his butt sticking up in the air anyway. Zevran here, stood up and spanked him across it with a loud smack.”

The assassin chuckled on the lively memory. “Yes I sure did! He have such juicy butt cheeks, it would be an unforgivable sin not to spank them regularly.”

“So what exactly happened to the poor lad?” Varric’s curiosity and need for details had to be satisfied.

“Well once he recovered, we all had to hold him tight to keep him from strangling Morrigan. Apparently she had stolen his clothes, turned the water around him into ice chips, and when he finally managed to stumble with clattering teeth on the shore, she stood there before him naked as well, glowing in evil red light, her eyes piercing him as the midday Sun. My poor Ali, being an innocent virgin freaked out and regardless of his state ran into safety. Afterwards Morrigan needed only to hint she’ll undress and he started to shiver as if the frost hit him again.”                               

Callista finished, laughter echoing all around her, yet her eyes darted to the spot Hawke was sitting, only to find it empty. Anders was gone as well. _Oh Creators, I hope they won’t do anything stupid!_

………………………..

The Champion started to feel uncomfortably hot by the fire, so she stood up surprisingly unnoticed and on somewhat unstable legs walked the short distance to the lake’s shore. The full moon reflected on the calm water, bathing the surroundings in etherial silver light. She sat down on a smooth rock, let her cheeks be caressed with a fresh breeze, smelling of cool purity. She smiled on the bright orb, looking like a gorgeous simpleton. Brandy tended to have such a compromising effect on her. A short moment later the pointless wandering of her fuzzy mind was violently interrupted with the most capturing and velvety voice she knew.

“You shouldn’t be wandering alone in this state.”

“Ha, if this isn’t my glowing hus*hic*band! Lyra was pointing somewhere in direction of his crotch, all inhibitions, fear and anger gone. The Champion was giggling like a teenage girl, which made Anders both happy and worried. He was unsure, how to approach her, as it was crystal clear that a sober Lyra would keep her distance, avoiding him as much as possible. Yet, he couldn’t leave her there.

“Hubby, I want to cut your hair and shave off your bear… I mean beard. You cut short my locks, so now it’s my turn to… to… damn it just come here!” In a flash she drew out her small razor sharp dagger. Anders quickly closed the distance. “Hawke I have no desire to end up with your fine dagger deep in my eye or worse with a haircut ála Fenris. Be a good girl and gimme the blade.”

She handed it to him meekly, pouting her full lips like a stubborn child. “I’m always a good girl.”

He smiled down at her, dared to cup her cheek with bated breath. As she leaned in his caressing hand, kissing his palm, Anders felt dizzy, almost drunk himself. A whisper escaped his lips. “My good girl.” He shook his head violently, in desperate attempt to lift the fog of intoxicated passion. _I don’t deserve to touch her, I have only the right to keep her safe._

He lifted her up gently, one hand around her waist, painfully aware of her warm smooth skin beneath the thin shirt. He navigated them back to camp, definitely not an easy job, as Lyra kept tripping over her own feet, babbling and giggling all the way. They had to stop twice, when she stumbled on some stumps, hurting her toes, demanding Anders kissed the pain away. He healed her instead, losing nerves the second time, scooping her in his arms and carrying her the last hundred yards to their camp.

Callista saw them first. “What happened? Is she hurt?”

“*Hic* I’m perfectly fine, Your Heroness! Stop the dull grey wardening and have some fun! Oh you should get married! To have someone to carry you around!”

Anders chuckled, bouncing Lyra to distribute her weight more comfortably in his arms. “Yeah Pumpkin, you should marry to have some cute idiot to carry you across all Thedas! But first things first. I put Hawke down to sleep, I believe she called dibs on the second tent? You can go prepare on a husband hunt or back to trashing me, completely your choice, sis.”

Varric and Callista exchanged worried looks, but did not intervene, hoping this situation wouldn’t cause more damage to the troubled pair of lovers.

……………………..

Anders laid her down on the bedroll, his arms disappointingly empty all of the sudden. She was already drifting off to sleep, giggling with half closed eyes as he pulled her boots off of her. He hesitated, surely she would be more comfortable if he stripped her leather pants as well, yet he faltered. He was afraid of her morning reaction… maybe she wouldn’t remember it was him. Lis could share her tent and come morning claim it was she putting her to sleep.

Anders dropped to his knees beside her and slowly pulled her pants down, watching her reaction anxiously. It all went smoothly, he could let out a relieved sigh while covering her with a warm blanket. Sitting beside his wife, watching her peacefully sleeping face in the soft light of the shimmering tiny orbs he conjured, he couldn’t resist bending down to place a kiss on her forehead. _One last time..._

The kiss was featherlight, lips brushing the smooth skin almost undetected, all senses sharp, painfully aware of the sweet taste, intoxicating scent of lavender and his woman herself, eyes marveled in all the close details of Lyra’s beloved face, her deep breathing sounding like soothing lullaby in his ears.

He savored the precious moment as long as he dared, then reluctantly pulled away. All of sudden Lyra’s hand shot up in the air, she grabbed his shirt tight, pulling him back down. Green eyes full of need and longing opened wide, locked in his amber ones, drinking in all the love and tenderness Anders’ soul and heart couldn’t even house.

“Stay with me. Hold me. Just for tonight.” Her voice was husky, barely a whisper, yet it resonated in his head, like an incantation, a powerful spell.

Speechless he laid down beside her, Lyra instantly curled into his chest, with a deep breath took in his scent she missed so dearly and drifted into peaceful sleep.

Anders buried his nose in her soft hair, vowing to himself he wouldn’t fall asleep he needed to live and imprint every moment of their intimate closeness. Wrapping his arms around her, he placed one more kiss on his woman’s forehead, murmuring in his caressing voice. “Lyra… my love.”             


	19. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend this to happen, yet Anders and Lyra had their own mind apparently. And Zev was adorable. Warning: NSFWish  
> Thank the amazing TurboNerd for her patience with my clumsy English.  
> Enjoy.  
> Music tip: Ed Sheeran - Photograph

The birds chirped far too fucking loud, the morning light too bloody bright even dimmed with the canvas of her tent, and the taste in her mouth was just pure garbage.  _ Oh crap! _

Trying to pull the blanket over her head to find some relief in the dark, Lyra Hawke discovered she wasn’t sleeping alone. Her husband, the shameless blanket thief, had wrapped the covers tight around his hips, so she was left with only a corner, which barely reached up to her thighs.

_ How… what… oh Maker, why do you insist on messing with me all the time? Are you tired of ruling the pretentious Orlesians? So you’re like; hey, I need a girl to torture, to see how much she could take before turning into a pitiable distressed nug… oh screw you! Go to your precious Andraste for some... _

She gritted her teeth and groaned with pain, her head throbbed, billions of tiny nugs running, squeaking and stomping in her skull. She wished she could unleash Dog on the pink, cute, but now such vicious creatures. What a splendid massacre would it be!  

Desperately she tried to recall the seemingly unfortunate events of last night, yet there were only insignificant flashes of firelight, bright moon reflecting on the calm water of the nearby lake, her friends laughing in high spirited merriment, sharing funny stories along with a few bottles of fine strong brandy.  _ Oh, so much excellent brandy! _

At last she abandoned all efforts to untangle the messy web of foggy memories, it was just fruitless. Instead, she returned to the present and her gorgeous, sleeping husband. Lyra studied his face hungrily, taking in all of his handsome features. His long slender nose, she used to kiss so often, his smooth cheeks above his now quite long and thick dark honeyed beard. Her man lost some weight recently, which made his cheekbones rather distinctive, he looked more stern and serious. Yet submerged in such deep and peaceful sleep, the trouble of his hard work and endless struggle lifted, leaving a soft and tender expression. His closed eyes twitched every now and then, as tiny smiles rippled his exquisite velvet lips. 

Lyra longed to kiss him so badly it actually hurt. To close the small gap in between them, to feel the softness, and taste, lick, caress, nuzzle…. she closed her eyes, waiting for the terrible flash of the crucial moment, why she could no longer succumb to her desires. Yet the image of Anders with icy blue eyes attacking her to kill somehow dimmed, the pain wasn’t unbearably sharp, but dull, like a slowly healing cut. She took a deep breath, then very carefully sat up, searching for her  _ missing! _ pants and boots, pulling them up and leaving the tent with a last revering glance over her shoulder. She had to clear her head, she wasn’t ready to face him yet.

The camp was still sleeping, loud rumbling snore echoing from Varric’s tent, in a high contrast to the birds’ sharp staccato. She grinned, annoyed with blindingly bright Sun and the cacophony of loud noises. 

The calm lake lured her strongly, the morning was quite hot already, so she dared to go for a swim. Leaving her clothes in a bundle on a smooth warm rock, she quickly stepped in the crystal clear water, flinching a little, when it touched her lower belly. She didn’t make a fuss and just dove right in, to emerge only a few feets ahead, all her senses awakened with the marvelously fresh water. She started to swim along the shore, in a steady pace, her headache slowly fading away due to the healthy exercise and cool air in her lungs. It was so pleasant, she pushed all the wild jumble of thoughts aside, relishing such a perfect moment. 

Yet after while, she decided to make for the shore, to sprawl on the large rock, bask in the sun and try to determine her next move. 

“Champion!” She almost drowned at the sound, registering only now, the assassin from yesterday sat nonchalantly on the rock next to her unmentionables, eating a red apple with great gusto. 

“Perdón for startling you, that wasn’t my intention. I’ve brought you some breakfast, after last night, I guess you would welcome something solid in your stomach, yes? And I dare to take my chances to offer you an attentive ear as well, no?” He paused to flash a disarming smile, then tilted his head a little, apparently in doubt. “Just say a word, and I’ll vanish faster than a golden dragon in pirate wench’s magnificent bosom, no hard feelings I assure you, my dear.”

Lyra swallowed the curses she already had on her tongue, taken aback with Zevran’s thoughtfulness. “Well thank you, that’s really nice of you, Zevran…”  _ What to do? _ There was something about this hot rogue she found both unnerving and pleasant. He was ridiculously handsome and he sure knew it; the way he carried himself, from the tips of his golden hair to his toes, Zevran radiated pure cockiness, like the only existent peacock amongst a thousand of hens. Yet she felt he was loyal to his bones and genuinely cared for his friends.  _ Well, bloody handkerchief, why not? _

“I would like you to stay as well… I just saw a freakishly huge fish, and I could use you as tasteful bait… uhm...could you turn away for a bit? I’ll come out and make myself presentable. I might scare you off with my scars.”

“We all have scars, my dear Champion. But as you wish.” The tone of his voice revealed a whole new level of compassion and Lyra felt silly about her feeble attempt to be funny. 

Once in dry clothes, a large slice of cheese in her hand, she sat cross legged on the warm rock opposite from Zevran, who studied her face openly, his warm eyes soft and vigilant to every tiniest change in her expression. 

“So in this intimate settings should I call you Champion or…?”

“Oh no, Zevran, call me Hawke.”

“Hmmm I dare to refuse. I think “Hawke” is some sort of a mask, or an armor, if you will, a part you know well how to act upon. And as such, it won’t serve the purpose of our conversation, no?”

Lyra raised her eyebrows in surprise, she didn’t expect him to be this observant. “And the purpose of our conversation is?”

Zevran smiled and placed his warm palm on her knee, to circle it few times with his thumb, knowing very well the calming effect his touch could bring. “To get you from the tall mage’s binding spell of course, if that’s what you truly desire, Amellia.”

Lyra’s heart made a wild flip. “My dad used to call me by my middle name sometimes…”

Zevran noded. “Perfect, now you can feel like an innocent little girl, at least for this short moment and be straightforward with expressing your feelings and needs. Let me be blunt as well. From what I saw yesterday, and I fancy myself as a master in reading people, it’s undeniable Anders is your Sun as you’re his Moon. You both simply can’t help yourselves and cease orbiting one another. Yet, he had burned you deeply. I do not wish to pry further, because the nature of your burn doesn’t really matter. The question is, could you forgive him?”

Lyra closed her tired eyes.  _ Oh he’s so right, it’s like I’m battling the whole universe to get myself from his spell and I’m always forced back to crash into him, no matter how hard I try to fly away freely.  _ And now with this unexpectedly friendly and bright stranger she finally felt free to voice her most intimate thoughts, even her faithful companions haven’t heard. 

“Ahh, at this point, I guess I have to stop deluding myself that I’m fine. It’s like I’m under the sea, everything is dimmed, colors and sounds, my chest hurts constantly, screaming for free air. Every single part of me is exhausted from the water pushing me down towards the darkest depths, the icy cold hard bottom, from which is no return to the light…” she watched the lake, its calm waters sparkling and glimmering in morning Sun, brightly colored kingfishers flying at top speed, performing impossible pirouettes, snatching silver little fishes from the ripples with decadent ease.  _ I could stay here, watch their lethal dance forever. _

A gentle caress of her cheek brought her back, Zevran smiled at her warmly, yet his eyes spoke of deep sorrow. “There’s no living under the water, my dear Amellia. I’ve been there for longer time I care to admit.”

She nodded her silent agreement and locked his friendly eyes, searching them for encouragement and any indication of resolution to the torture of her present being. 

“I do not dare to tell you what to do, yet I beg you to choose  _ life _ . No matter how painful it might be. The pain is worth the fresh air and freedom of body and spirit. You were born to fly, fly high, reach the Sun. You are the Hawke. The bird of prey, Amellia! Spread your wings and take, what your heart desires.” To emphasize his words, Zevran jumped on his feet, grabbed her hands and pulled her up, slipped behind her and spread her arms wide, leaning left and right mimicking the flight. “Now screech Hawke, with all your might!”

Lyra let out an incoherent sound, something between a drinker’s howl and a highly aroused owl’s hoot, while trying to stay upright and not crumble down in fit of laughter.

“Oh no no, I’m not letting you off with such feeble crap. Come on Champion, screech!”

He let go of her hands, let his right dangle loose along their hips and then placed his left palm fingers spread wide across her chest, as if to reach for her hammering heart. 

“Now stop dwelling under the water, fly to your Sun, even if it meant another burn.”

A few deep breaths later, she was suddenly in the air, as Zevran placed both of his arms to support her waist and thighs and lean forward, so she was on her belly, arms spread wide and head held high. 

_ Oh this is what I’ve needed for so long! _

She opened her eyes wide, to take in all the colors and beauty of their surroundings, the dancing birds, the whispering restless water. Her lungs filled up with fresh fragrant air and she let out a loud reverberating “Raaarrrrrr” which carried over the water to the distant shore. 

Zevran put her down with a content smile and she hugged him tight, laughing and shaking with an outburst of new energy. She smiled at him and kissed his cheeks. “Thank you Zevran. I would never expect a stranger to be this caring.”

He smirked. “Well that’s what I do to pretty women who spared my life, don’t I?”

A far deeper voice than he expected, answered him. “Apparently. Might I have a word with Hawke?”

“Sure, my tall friend. We’re done here anyway. Champion.” With a small bow and the usual cocky smile back in place, Zevran backed off. Though he couldn't resist to tease Anders, whispering “your wife has a delightful bosom” just a moment before he disappeared into the safety of the woods.

Lyra stood still on the rock the assassin left her, taking deep breaths to fight all the adrenalin that flooded her head.  _ Anders… _

_ ……………………………... _

Waking alone in the warm tent, Anders went on search for her, not sure what to say once he found her, yet there was nothing else to do, other than follow his gut. The lake was his first guess, as he knew her love for the water, and surely enough, there she was, smiling, hugging and  _ kissing _ the blonde, bold prick, Zevran. But the moment the assassin left the scene, striking a jealous nerve with appreciative comment regarding Lyra’s breasts, Anders’ anger faded away as quickly as it had risen. Instead, his heart filled up with tenderness he felt toward the beautiful woman, who stood blushing with wildly disheveled damp hair on a large rock, the constant glimmering of the lake adding somewhat ethereal look to her. Anders wasn’t prepared to face such breathtaking perfection. And the moment she outstretched her arms to him in an inviting gesture, he was lost.

He closed the distance in few hasty strides, caught her in his arms as she jumped down and kissed her. Kissed her with all force and urgency, the three months of severance accumulated. He needed to rediscover every tiny corner of her mouth, the smooth structure, the perfect M, that crowned her upper lip, her teeth that could bite so exquisitely at his own flesh. Which brought him to the fact, that she had flesh  _ as well! _

Flesh worth of exploration! So he let his hands wander from her waist up, dragging them along her sides to cup her face, dance through her hair, tickle her ears. He placed his left palm on the back of her head to help Lyra deal with the pressure his passionate kissing created and his right was free to explore. Slowly his fingers rolled down along her spine to the small of her back and he dared to slip beneath the light shirt to caress her naked skin. As an appreciative moan escaped his wife’s lips, he lost every last bit of self-control and dipped his hand as far down her pants as possible, grabbing her juicy buttocks and pushing her into his frame and erection, it actually hurt. He hissed and left her lips with a small bite and suck, to trace the side of her jaw with tender little kisses, then slid below her ear, which surprisingly made Lyra giggle and pull away a bit. 

“Your beard! It tickles!”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry!” Anders ran his palm nervously through it, with a rather annoyed hiss. “I hadn’t realised it had grown so long!”

The genuine smile on Lyra’s lips wiped away all of his worries as she pressed her lips to his and mumbled. “I might actually prefer it to the scratching of your usual stubble.” 

“Oh I’m such a terrible man, aren’t I? Should I shave it off then?”

Now she kissed his nose. “Don’t be silly, I love every part of you. Even your hair, now embarrassingly longer than mine.”

The inevitable question rose in his mind, but he couldn’t let himself to say it out loud. This moment, the fact that she let him touch her, that she act like nothing happened, it was too much to let Justice spoil it into another hurtful memory. It seemed she red his mind. 

“Anders, I haven’t forgotten… It still hurts, but far less than to be without you.... that is the pain I can no longer bear. Please accept that and we won’t ever talk about it, right?”

“I…” His conscience was screaming, thumping in his head, waking up Justice to intervene, but he shut them down, at least for now. Now they were safe. So he nodded in agreement and hugged her tightly, nuzzling into her hair and whispering all the endearing words, that stumbled upon his mind. She pressed into him with urgency, one of her tiny hands slid down to fondle his ass, while in the other one she took his and guided it to her breast. Anders heart skipped a beat, as Lyra’s husky “please” echoed in his ears. He sunk to his knees, buried his face in between her breasts, snuggling in the light shirt, that was still damp from her swim earlier. Lyra entwined her fingers in his  unbound hair and hummed her deepest approval, while he unlaced her leather pants and pulled them down just beneath her ass along with her smalls. One swift movement later and her shirt was down as well, leaving her breasts and scarred abdomen completely unprotected to the fresh morning breeze and Anders’ touches, which both caused her nipples to stiffen, calling for attention. Her man took her left hand, and kissed every one of her fingers, sucking on them, as if they were covered in some sweet nectar. “Thank you for not taking the ring off, it truly means the world to me, to see it on your finger, love.” 

“I would never… it’s part of me.” And she slid down to her knees as well, taking his face in her warm palms gently, tracing every of the precious worry lines with her thumbs. As quickly as possible Anders shed off his shirt, desperate to have the most intimate contact with her. She followed his prayer and unlaced his pants, pulled them down his ass as well and crashed into his erection, the contact made him wince in bittersweet pain. “Every night of those three months I layed aching for you, left with nothing but my guilt, regret and sure I won’t ever feel your touch again.”

“Sush, just touch me now.”

It was too good to be true, yet somehow it was real. Anders lowered her down on the warm sand, got rid of their pants all together and settled in between her inviting legs. Dragging his length along her already wet folds, he knew this wouldn’t be one of those slow acts, he couldn’t possibly prolong it much longer. His nose nuzzling her temple, he took a deep breath to calm himself and pulled back a little to have better access, he intended to spoil his woman. He circled both of her breasts in tingly light touches, and made a torturously slow path down, finally caressing her sex with his open palm. He dragged it up and down, letting his middle-finger glide inside her slick folds, its tip curling up, entering her with the last digit every time.

Lyra arched her back, moaned and hissed, the volume of her bliss increasing with every stroke and as Anders squeezed her breast tight, leaving the nipple free for his hungry lips, she actually began to shiver, goosebumps rising all over her body, so strong was her physical reaction to his touches, she missed for three whole months. “Anders, please…” Lyra barely audible whisper was music to his ears. 

He knew what she was pleading for, but there was one thing he wanted to do for her before lose himself in her pulsing center. 

Lyra felt almost on the verge of insanity, her mind and body screamed for him, the next touch more precious than the previous; she experienced a bitter moment every time his lips or hands left the place they were caressing, only to rejoice when they moved to worship another. She felt Anders shifted his palm slightly and began to truly attend to the little throbbing bud, leaving her whimpering for release. Which a tiny spark of electricity brought her the very next moment and she was free to bite her lips, to cry, to moan and ultimately whisper his name.

Anders couldn’t hold back anymore. He caressed her flushed cheek, traced her swollen lips with his thumb, a thrilling sensation ran along his spine as she bit and licked it. He locked his eyes in her hazy ones, sunk on his elbows and entered her without further hesitation. The contented sighs of both lovers synchronized in steady rhythm, and it didn’t take long to hear them both moaning each others names in the evanescent moment of bliss.

…………………….

They laid in the sand in a tangle of tired limbs, hands still running along the curves, which they were denied to feel for so long. Lyra kissed Anders’ nipple, circling it with the tip of her tongue while gliding her nails along the contours of his perfect ass. The humm coming out of her man was endearing.

“I need to ask you something.” She lifted her eyes to look at his face, his own were closed, a content smile making the wrinkles in their corners more distinct. She loved his wrinkles.

“Hmm, I’m all yours to interrogate. I would even tell you my real name at this point.”

“Oh! Go on then, what’s my husband’s real fancy name?”

“It’s L… oh shoot, why did you stop caressing my ass? Now I’ve lost it!”

A loud slap followed by a theatrical wail echoed on the water, as Lyra smacked his buttocks with open palm, and bit on his nipple.

“Ouch, that was exquisite! You might want to punish me in a different way, this is a reward!” Anders twisted slightly, to offer her better access to his ass. “I beg for more, my lady!”

Lyra giggled. “Just you wait, you naughty boy…” She bit her lower lip, suddenly bashful. “The girl in your clinic, your assistant Anna…”

Anders let out a buoyant howl. “Ohoho! Ha by Andraste’s holy nipple! You’re jealous!” This earned him another nippy slap across his fundament. 

“No, I’m not!” she pouted. “I’m merely curious about her, as she spends so much time with you.”

“Sure, that’s why you’re asking. Don’t worry, love. Anna is not my type. I like my women bold, brave and bittersweet. Besides, I’m pretty sure, she likes girls. Hmm come to think of that, it might actually prove useful… yes I should definite introduce you properly.”

The following slap made him wince and hiss with pleasure. “Yes, that was what I aimed for! And just to remind you, I’m not the one who let himself be felt up by a certain cheeky blond assassin. I think it’s my turn to slap you now, isn’t it?”

Lyra nodded vigorously, beaming like a child presented with the sweetest candy. “Yes, it is!”  

The ever present shadow in the corners of their mind retreated for this joyous moment and let the lovers frolic a little longer, sure their trial would come nonetheless. 

__


	20. The Hesitant Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to sum up: I'm tired from all the Christmas preparations, so you'll have to read it :D  
> Satinalia NSFW will follow in the next chapter.
> 
> Soundtrack:  
> The Sweetest Devotion - Adele
> 
> as always, thanks the amazing TurboNerd for her edit.

Lyra and Anders walked hand in hand into the camp and saw everyone packing and preparing to hit the road. The Sun was already high in the cloudless sky, the day pleasantly warm and full of bright colors. Varric spotted them first, raising his eyebrows significantly higher.

“Ha! Here comes the tipsy Champion and her magical husband! Hawke, your shirt is pretty revealing, tighten the straps... and Blondie, you might wanna heal that hickey on your neck, it’s bad for your business, you know…” the dwarf tried to hide his worries behind funny remarks, but obviously it didn’t work on Anders. The mage met his gaze and with a reassuring nod and somewhat bitter smile answered his friend’s worries. 

“Everything is fine, Varric, thank you.”

An intruding voice resonated in his head, full of suspicion and poorly-hidden anger.

_ Is it? So, you’re back with her. How long can it last, until she’ll do something stupid and collide with our mission, pray?  _

Anders closed his eyes for a fraction, exhaling deeply.  _ Scheisse! Let me live for a while… am I not sacrificing enough? _

_ Comparing to all the locked up and tortured mages? All the Tranquils? NO!  _ Justice was upset, on the verge of turning into Vengeance and reaching for control. 

_ I promise I’ll work twice as hard, I know our priorities. Just let me have her by my side… _

_ Use her to our cause then! She has influence and resources. Make demands! _

Anders stopped abruptly and let go of Lyra’s hand, a tortured expression on his face.

_ NEIN! You won’t drag her into this! Let me work on my own terms, or I will end this! End us! End myself! _

The Spirit fall silent, no further response addressing Anders’ rage. 

A tiny palm touched his chest right above his racing heart, another hand wrapped itself around his slender waist. A barely audible whisper reached his ears. “Don’t let him in, be strong my beloved.”

His fingers found her cheek, cupping it tenderly, as Anders opened his eyes to look into her bright ones, which were searching his face for any trace of possession. He tried to smile for her and to his own surprise he managed, whispering back, praying for those words to be true. “I won’t let him.”

Looking up, he saw Varric’s now clearly disapproving gaze and Callista, hurrying forth to meet them, with a surprisingly neutral expression on her face. She beckoned them to step back into the shadows of the pines, to have a private conversation. 

“Anders, Hawke, I’m leaving shortly, I need to try and finish this task of mine. I’ve only wanted to say, _ stay safe _ . I know you both are involved in dire quests, but please be careful. Enjoy every damned moment you’re together, because tomorrow may never come.”

“Come here, Pumpkin.” Anders hugged her tight, kissing the top of her head, trying hard not to  sneeze as her gold curls tickled the tip of his nose. She tugged on his shirt, an old signal, asking him to bow closer to hear her whisper.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Andy. There’s always a way, even if you don’t see it right away. I promise, I’ll try to help you and Justice. I just need to finish this, so stay low for now.”

“Tell me, what you are doing… I’m a Grey Warden after all.”

Callista stepped on his foot lightly and whispered through gritted teeth. “Don’t you remind me that I should arrest you for desertion.”

Next to them Lyra cleared her throat. “I’ll go pack my things.” Anders smiled warmly at her, grateful for his wife’s understanding.

The moment Lyra backed away in between the tents, his former Warden Commander broke their embrace, looking sideways in the rosemary bushes. She closed her eyes and with a deep exhale blurted out. “How is Cullen?”

Anders clenched his jaw, both hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white from all the tension flooding his body. _Cullen fucking Rutherford_ _was the reason, why I almost killed Lyra!_ He would prefer to never ever hear his name, if only the Maker were more merciful to him. Yet he tried to suppressed this anger for his dear friend’s sake. “Well, we’re not exactly best pals, but I guess he’s doing fine. At least I consider him sane, unlike the Knight Commander bitch. Shall I let him know, you were here?” 

Callista was still avoiding to meet his compassionate eyes. “No. I really don’t think he would like to hear my name… ever. His last words to me were quite clear.” 

“Aww Pumpkin, I’ve told you a thousand times, he wasn’t sane at that moment! He had been tortured with horrid visions, his mind broken into pieces. I don’t deny he thinks mages aren’t safe and should be locked up, yet I feel he would never hurt you again. But why you are still hung up on a guy with no existing sense of humor and terrible hairstyle choices is beyond me.” Anders tried to cheer her up, he didn’t want to say his goodbyes to an upset friend; that wasn’t the way he would leave his Commander.

“Lis, I can’t talk to him myself, I can’t risk Vengeance interfering, but Lyra could. She can break the ice easily and find out what is he feeling for you.”

For a moment she felt silent. The only proof of her internal struggle being her busy forefinger, wrapping itself in her gold curls. She grinned bitterly at her own boots. “What good could it do?”

Anders really felt for her. Rutherford clearly captured her heart, if after all these years she still reacted so strongly.  _ The curly bloody bastard! _ “You need to know, to get some sort of closure, or your mind won’t ever cease wandering in doubts. Come on, Pumpkin, it’s Satinalia tomorrow, spend it with us. I could smuggle you into the city easily, no one will pry about you at the Hanged man. Plus I’m sure the blond prick over there won’t say no to Bella’s hospitality in her room. What’s one more day?”

She looked up to him. “Oh to the Fade with you… fine, I could use one night in a comfy bed. As long as we’re clear, I’m not to see Cullen in person.”

Anders conjured his most solemn face. “Your wish is mine command.”

“Of course it is, mister smarty pants! I’m still your Commander!” She turned towards the camp and shouted on top of her lungs. ”Hey Zev, change of plans, we’re going to stay in Kirkwall for tonight!” 

Zevran stopped sharpening his daggers. “Excellent! Can I stay with the pirate wench, por favore? She has a lovely collections of bandanas to show to me.”

Isabella smirked at him. “There’s so much more I’m going to show you, as long as you treat me like a lady.” Zevran conjured a flourish curtsy right before her, so he could easily grabbed her juicy buttocks on his way up, wiggling his eyebrows. “My lady  _ wench _ .”

They all packed their belongings and loot in happy and amicable spirits, worries and problems could wait at least for one more day. Anders couldn’t help but kiss and hug Lyra every moment possible, making her giggle or moan quietly into his mouth. Varric’s loud cough brought them down to earth the third time, just in the moment Anders already sneaked his hands underneath her shirt, letting them wander freely along her spine, pressing her against his chest to feel the heaving of her glorious breasts, her giddy heartbeat and rub her pelvis against his building erection.

“Watch it you two horny fools, or I will start to prefer you two not talking to each other.”

Anders grinned, kissed Lyra’s forehead and raised his hands in a theatrical gesture, almost shouting at Varric. “Guilty as charged my friend; I’m but a horny fool in love.”

………………………….

Kirkwall Gallows

Lyra watched Cullen from a far, pretending to browse through some ridiculously overpriced daggers. _A smooth opening line… Maker blessings Knight-Captain, didn’t you perchance bang the Hero of Ferelden and aren’t you still drooling over her?_ _Bloody brilliant!_

Deciding just to go with the flow, she made a beeline to Cullen’s post, as usual he stood just a few steps away from a small group of Templars near the stairs, a solemn expression on his handsome face, a bit discouraging for others to approach him.

He nodded to her, a miniscule hint of a smile on his lips. “Champion, what would you have of me?”

Lyra shuffled her feet, searching for some sensible words. “You know my friend Varric? The dwarf with magnificent chest hair? Well of course you do.” She sighed, annoyed with her own incompetence. “Ehh he’s writing a book about the Hero of Ferelden and is looking for any reliable source. I thought you once mentioned you knew her from the Ferelden’s Circle?”

Cullen knitted his brow, apparently in doubt, what to share with her, then moved, so to be out of earshot for anyone else, beckoning to her to follow. 

“Hmm as you drag Anders almost everywhere,  I would guess he told plenty about her. They were very close. I… barely knew her.”

_ Oh fucking duckling! Get it together, Hawke!  _ “Well... yes. But you know Anders, he might be exaggerating a great deal to impress us. So Varric would like a testimony of a reliable person.”  _ Oho, Cullen is blushing! So cute! _

Not only was he blushing but suddenly his body language changed, tension and abashment driving his every movement; he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. 

She dared to reach for his other gloved hand, in attempt to calm him down.

“Cullen? Did I upset you?” As he finally met her gaze, she regretted to brought the subject up at all. The pain in his warm eyes, so similar to Anders’, hit her hard.

He closed them for a moment and whispered with a deep exhale. “She was very special to me and I hurt her terribly. If only I had a chance to apologize, it haunts me even after all these years. She has probably forgot all about me, but still I would like to relieve my conscience one day.”

Lyra decided honesty would be the right approach at this point, she had to leave it to Cullen and hope for the best.

“She's here.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Is this some kind of a spiteful prank? Do you hate Templars so…?

“Cullen! I swear on my brandy cabinet! The Warden Commander and Hero of Ferelden Callista Surana is currently in my living room, catching up with Bodahn and Sandal. Well there’s not much of a development on Sandal’s part, I bet he was mumbling ‘enchantment’ coming out of his mother, but…”

The Captain grabbed her forearm, squeezing it painfully. “Is she alright? It isn’t safe for her here in Kirkwall, the Knight-Commander might even accuse  _ her  _ of blood magic at this point, she has become paranoid and unpredictable.” 

Lyra took in this valuable information, but didn't respond, just wiggled her arm slightly to let him know about her discomfort. As Cullen released her mumbling an apology, which she waved off, Lyra blurted out the whole purpose of this encounter, just to have it off of her chest. “I'm going out this evening and there will be no one else in the house. If you want to see her, come right after sunset.” The Knight-Captain stood still as if petrified, his eyes unfocused, following the lively swarm in the Gallow’s courtyard. “Cullen? Have you heard me?” After two unsuccessful attempts to answer her, his hoarse ‘yes’ slipped of his lips. “Then my part is done. No matter how you decide, I hope I don’t have to remind you to keep it a secret.”

He watched her leave, this admirable woman who so suddenly turned his peaceful shift into a restless ordeal.  _ Maker, she's here. _

…………………………..

Lyra plopped the last raspberry in her husband’s mouth, smiling happily as he licked her finger. “Anders, you should go. Cullen might be here any moment now, if he had indeed decided to go for it. And we can't risk Justice taking over…”

A flick of annoyance flashed through her husband’s face, he didn't want the Templar there, in their safe harbor. He suggested the Hanged man, a neutral ground, but no, his generous wife had to offer their home so the Knight-Captain could memorize its interior, even spy on them. Putting aside his feelings for Lis, he was still a Templar officer. Anders tensed, lips sealed shut together, nostrils wide with intensified breathing. 

Lyra grabbed his hand, brought it to her lips and kissed the inside of his palm. “Remember, it's for Lis and it actually was your idea in the first place.”

“The meeting, not this place! Lyra this could be dangerous, we need to be more careful. What if he discovers the secret passage to my clinic? Have you thought of such consequences?” He grabbed her shoulders rather roughly, trying to make her see reason.

Instead of pulling away and defying him, Lyra snuggled in his chest, one hand around his neck the other wrapped around his slender waist. “Anders, please believe me, he won’t do any of these things. He’s a man of honor, I know it deep in my bones. You know I’m great at judging character.”

“What about Vael?” Anders wouldn’t drop it so easily.

“I thought you had faith in me.” She mumbled into his chest, feeling hurt and abandoned in her efforts.

“I do! I just felt it could put you in danger!” He hugged her tight, feeling torn and miserable about causing her more pain.  _ Could we risk it? Just calm down to clear your mind. _

“I’m so sorry, love. I should have trusted you. Could you forgive me?”

She didn’t want to argue about this. There was no point to feel hurt, was there?  _ He was only worried about my safety... _

………………………….

With joy from their recent reunion still lingering in their hearts, they couldn't stay mad at each other for long; tension faded, and the lovers stood by the balcony window to watch the sun go down. Lyra leaned her back into his chest, resting her weight against his tall body, feeling blissful and content as he had wrapped his arms under her breasts, his chin resting on the top of her head. 

The mage inhaled his wife fragrance, and exhaled deeply so his breath tickled the side of her neck, her short black hair reached only below her ears. “Do you miss my long hair?”

Anders hugged her even tighter. “I’ve been missing  _ you _ . From the moment I woke up, all day, every day, no matter how busy I was. Constant hollowness in my chest, which nothing could fill or heal. Late at night when I tried to rest, sleep wouldn’t come or it came with night terrors only you could chase away. I missed all of you.”

“You won’t ever have to sleep alone.” Lyra tilted her head sideways and looked up at him, offering her lips eagerly. Anders bent down, his mouth hovering only inches above hers, he slowly turned his wife to face him, his left hand sliding down to her butt, grabbing and squeezing possessively, while the thumb of his right followed the outline of her lips, light pressure on the lower one, causing Lyra to open her mouth. Between the two lines of her white teeth, the red tip of her tongue appeared, making a teasingly fleeting contact with his thumb, only to disappear back luring him to explore her mouth deeper. Anders then assaulted her lips with passionate urgency, his muffled moan swallowed by Lyra.

Two pairs of hands wandered, feeling and caressing their lover’s curves, long strokes altered with gentle seductive touches. 

Lyra was the first who managed to pull away, Anders hissing with disappointment, his lips and arms feeling abandoned. “You should go, it’s time, he could be here any moment now.”  

After a brief moment of hesitation he nodded with somewhat bitter smile. “Be careful, love. Meet me at the clinic as soon as possible and make sure he thinks you're using the main entrance. He can't learn about our secret passageway.”

“Don't worry, he won't.” Conjuring a confident smile Lyra waved him off. He descended the flight of stairs reluctantly, only to turn quickly back, taking two stairs at once, sweeping his woman off her feet, swirling them both in a circle, kissing her forehead as he lowered her down, all giggling and flushed. “Don’t forget the oils from your night table. I’ll take wine from the cellar. Which is the most expensive one?”

Lyra’s voice was full of joy, seeing her broad smile melted Anders into a puddle of liquid joy. “They’re all expensive, you idiot! Now go go go!”

Anders stopped in the cellar to grab two bottles of wine and a small wheel of deliciously smelling cheese. Suddenly he felt Justice stirring, his anger building up.

_ What are you doing? Go back and wait for the Templar to interrogate him! We need information! _

Anders leaned against the cold wall, fists clenched, knuckles turning white, breathing laboriously. 

_ No! Drop it! That is not the way for us! Back off! _

_ You’re too soft. Justice does not wait or dither, it does not take more convenient detours. It only follows the straightest path to balance and equality.  _

The mage closed his eyes, tired of this eternal fight.  _ In an ideal black and white world yes, however we live in this grey mess, that’s not easy to navigate in. There are many forces and we need to be careful. Leave that to me! Ich bitte dich! _

To Anders’ relief the Spirit pulled back, just a feeling of bitterness remained, the building pressure to stop the ever present wheel of abuse, no matter how badly the mage wanted a moment of peace. He had to do something soon, he couldn’t defy Justice much longer. He should get to work again.  _ Let me have this Satinalia and then I won’t rest until the chains are broken. _

……..…………………….

Smiling like pig in shit, Lyra entered her study, and found Callista sitting on floor with quite a few opened books around her, scribbling enthusiastically while humming a soft tune. She tucked an astray gold curl back behind her ear, and without actually looking up, greeted Lyra with excitement. “Hawke, I just adore your library! These are simply marvelous and stuffed with useful facts! Only why is there at least one copy of Anders’ Manifesto in every single one of them? It’s a powerful stuff however at this point, I might be using its backside for my notes. You won’t tell on me, will you?”

“No, I promise. Lis, Anders went to the clinic, he still has some work to do and I’m thinking I would go to help him a bit. I know we promised you rum and fun…”

The Warden smiled at her knowingly. “No go, be with your man. I have all I need here, really. Thank you for your hospitality, you’ve got a wonderful home. And a finely supplied kitchen as well. That’s something we Wardens find quite important.”

“Take whatever you want. We’ll be back soon.”

Lyra closed the door behind her, to make sure Lis wouldn’t know about Cullen’s plausible arrival earlier than planned. She then slipped in her everyday black leather pants, Anders’ old snuggly shirt, black corset and a long worn travelling overcoat, to keep a low profile. Suddenly Dog jumped on all four, running to the main door. She tapped her thigh, and he obeyed, pacing along her quietly, instead of loudly threatening the unknown visitor. A soft knock, followed shortly with a more confident thump caused Dog to tremble with suppressed excitement. 

Lyra shushed him once more and opened the door to no one other than Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford. Who was apparently nervous as a teenage boy before his first kiss. “Ehm Champion, sorry to impose on you… but you said, she was here… and I just… oh Maker.” Once again he was rubbing the back of his neck rather fiercely, studying her marble threshold. Lyra took pity on him, grabbed his gauntlet and pulled him inside the house.

“It’s just Hawke and you’re not imposing, as I alone invited you here earlier. Lis is in my study and I’m going to have a pint at the Hanged man.” She took in his appearance, the silly man came in his full templar armor. “Cullen, you are here to see a former circle mage, attone your mistakes, hoping in her forgiveness. You better take off your templar breastplate at least.”

“Oh Maker, I’m such an idiot…”

“No, you’re just not used to be around ordinary women. Stop rubbing your neck, I’m trying to unbuckle this monstrosity.” Lyra struggled with the straps, she was accustomed to take off light leathers or mage robes only, so after a moment of awkward struggle, she left it to Cullen. As the breastplate laid on the bench along with his gauntlets, pauldrons, plate boots and heavy cloak, the man’s wits kicked back in. “Wait, you called her and yourself ordinary women? Who is extraordinary then?”

“You, apparently. Stop wasting precious time and go! First door to the left!”

She watched Cullen hesitate, he let his left palm rest upon the polished wood, taking the understandable moment to steady himself. One deep breath later and he rushed in. Lyra tiptoed around the pool of yellow light coming out of the library, surprised there were no voices to be heard. She overcame the strong temptation to stay and spy on the Hero of Ferelden, but she had a man waiting.  _ For her, his wife.  _


	21. Steamy Satinalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well NSFWish plus a tiny rape reference, nothing graphical... but trigger warning nonetheless
> 
> Warden Commander Callista Surana looks like Lily James (Cinderella, Downton Abbey) and Knight-Captain Cullen Stanton Rutherford is Henry Cavill with dark blond hair (Superman in Man of Steel...) but of course feel free to picture them as you like :) 
> 
> soundtrack: What If - Kate Winslet
> 
> and as always thanks to TurboNerd for her awesome and patient editing

The Knight-Captain would have stood there forever; his left palm resting on the polished wood of the door, behind which _she_ was breathing. _Oh Maker, it can’t be!_

His head buzzed, flashes of memories racing…

… he barely knew who she was when he bumped into her on one of his night shifts. She was about sixteen years old, all innocent eyes and clumsy knees, sneaking through the empty corridor in only a thin nightshirt which couldn’t hide the outlines of her small breasts with stiffened nipples - that night had been particularly cold. Clutching a box of cookies, prepared to run for dear life, she saw it was him: “Ah, what a relief. Sorry. Cullen?”.... “Hmm?” He swallowed hard. She had caught him completely of guard; cute elven girls with cookies weren’t in the instruction handbook. Standing so damn close he could smell the shampoo on her golden curls she spoke, “Here, have some cookies.” She smiled at him and that was it. He accompanied her to the dormitory, wrapping his cloak around her, partly because she was really cold but also looked so hot, he had to cover her for his own sake. She wasn’t afraid of him at all, as if she knew he couldn’t ever harm her. And he couldn’t… _Oh Maker_ … As they stopped before the door to her dormitory, she handed the cloak back to him, pushed the almost full box of cookies into his hands, taking only one for herself, and with a bashful smile, standing on tiptoes, she kissed him on his right cheek.  

… one time during his shift in the library he watched her playing chess with Anders, who was constantly defeating her with an annoying cocky smile on his lips. Yet she challenged him again and again… the next time, he managed to slip a note beneath the chess board. _‘Thank you for the cookies. Wanna beat that prick? I’ll teach you. Pawn to D4, your move?’_ They were playing ever since in this way, and one day she was able to poke Anders in his nose and yell ‘checkmate’ for the whole library to hear. He had to bite the insides of his cheeks to suppress the inappropriate satisfied laugh. The note he found the next day sent his head spinning. _‘Thank you for teaching me. I’m done with chess. I want to learn how to kiss. Your move?’_ His move was the boldest thing he had done sofar.

Following her to an empty bathroom he grabbed her rather roughly and kissed her hastily, partly afraid of being seen, partly expecting to be burned or struck down by lightning for such a sinful act.

As he pulled away she caught his gauntlet between her hands and smiled. Kissing him slowly, the tip of her tongue traced the outline of his lips; surely he was by the Maker’s side!

       

… he had broken the arm of a fresh recruit Alvin as Cullen had caught the man cornering Callista in a deserted corridor, her robes already torn; she sobbed in his arms afterwards, clinging to him with bruised hands…

… her beautiful, wide smile lightened up warm amber eyes as he brought her one tiny violet to cheer her up after Anders’ last escape, she seemed lost without the tall prick. The frustration that he couldn’t possibly offer her the comfort she needed drove him crazy, the training dummy ended up hacked to pieces more than once. Greagoir even praised him for taking an extra step...

… their first and last time a week before her Harrowing in a small storeroom Anders discovered for himself and Karl. Ooh how he hated his heavy armor, depriving him of any intimate contact and the freedom of movement, forcing him to act slowly and clumsily, a prisoner in his safety steel…The frenzied fumbling with armor straps, buckles and robes, he almost cried from bliss when their bare bodies crashed to each other; such intimate contact was overwhelming… he couldn’t stop kissing and licking every bit of her warm smooth skin, dragging his lips across her delicate breasts, moaning into her cute pointed ears, fingers buried in her golden, curly mane... she was his Sun.

… the horror of being chosen to overlook her Harrowing. Charged with striking her down if things had gone wrong… digging his fingers so forcefully into his clenched fists, there were deep marks even after two weeks from the event…

… by chance he had been standing in the hall, shocked and paralysed, watching from afar as the Grey Warden recruited his tiny Sun to fight the Darkspawn!    

… and finally the day when she returned and saved the Circle… the terrible things he said to her still rang in his ears...

_‘Using my shame against me… my ill-advised infatuation with her… a mage of all things… it was a foolish fancy of a naive boy, I know better now.’_

Drawn to the present, Cullen sensed Hawke watching him, the energy the rogue emanated drove him forward, providing the final push he needed. So he rushed in, to be burned or illuminated by his Sun.

 _Oh Maker!_ Pacing back and forth with a huge, old-looking volume in her tiny hands, wearing only a thin, knee-length Warden blue tunic, girdled with a simple leather belt. Long, golden curls bobbed with her every move, there _she_ was.

But before he could even form a sensible opening line in his head, she dropped the book, spun around, grabbed the staff propped against the tall bookshelf and turned to face him. Her magic filled the room; now he really believed her story. He simply couldn’t see her kill the Archdemon before, but now as the walls around him began to vibrate, chilling waves running over his skin, keeping him at a safe distance… Cullen had never encountered such a natural force, he had to fight his instinct to defend himself. The Templar in him screamed, desperate to leap into action. However, the Knight-Captain lifted his arms in a surrendering gesture, looking her in the face after so many long years of severance.

The look she gave him sent shivers across his skin stronger than her magic caused, something clutched his heart in a strong, icy-cold grip. Her girlish, soft glow was gone, or at least well-hidden. The blinding light coming from her was cold and harsh, even bordering on hostile. Standing his ground, looking like an abandoned, curly puppy, not showing any signs of aggression, she slowly let down her guard, the magic fading away until she was only a woman; distrustful, defensive and godly beautiful.     

“What are you doing here, Templar?” Her words cut deep. Cullen wanted nothing else but to turn away from her solemn face and hide somewhere safe, locking away all the painful memories for good. _Why am I here?_  

Yet he didn’t move, instead he found his words at last. “I’m here to make amends for the way I treated you the last time we saw each other. I know the things I said were unforgivable, I don’t dare to ask for your forgiveness. I’ve only wanted to tell you how deeply sorry I am.”

Callista put away her staff. “Where’s Hawke?”

Cullen swallowed hard, the lump in his throat getting bigger with every moment. “She let me in and went to the Hanged Man. Please don’t be angry that she told me you were here. She meant well. And I won’t threaten yours or her safety.”

The mage nodded, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “So that’s the only reason you came here? To let me know you’re sorry for calling me _an ill-advised infatuation, a foolish fancy of a naive boy, your shame?”_

She spat the last words out quickly, eager to let them out in the open and get rid of them for good. She alone was baffled how much anger suddenly bubbled to the surface, triggered by his unexpected presence. In the soft candlelight the Warden Commander took in his appearance. The bashful boy was gone, a magnificent man stood before her. The simple linen shirt and black leather pants suited him well, he looked almost vulnerable without his templar armor, every muscle and even the tiniest move on display. She recalled this being actually only the second time she saw him without the metal cage.

_Don’t picture the first time!_

_He’s a Templar._

_His hands on my breasts._

_He’s the Knight-Captain!_

_His lips sucking on my nipples._

_He called you ‘mage’, insulted and hurt you beyond belief._

_His tongue on my clit._

_He wanted to execute mages on suspicion only._

_His fingers slowly dipping into my wet…_

“Lis… if I can still call you that… I can’t take my words back… I’ve wanted to see that you’re well with my own eyes, to put my mind at ease, stop wondering about your fate.”

_His divine deep voice, whispering loving words in my ears._

She stepped closer to him against her better judgement, and turned slowly around, displaying herself for him, adding a lavish curtsy. “So here I am.”

He swallowed hard, taking a moment to calm himself. “Yes… you look… well indeed.”

A shadow of a smile flew across Callista’s lips. _The man is still fumbling for words. I should throw him out. I really should._

“Would you like a glass of wine or brandy perhaps? Hawke has excellent supplies, and I need to take some revenge on her. So, Antivan brandy?”

“Maker, yes!” he dared to approach her now, taking a generously poured glass out of her hand, drinking it all at once. She smiled at him, feeling the ice melting significantly, strong chemistry between them even after all the years and past wrongs between them. He had grown into a strong man indeed, even comparable to Alistair’s formidable build and they both shared the same warm, Ferelden eyes. Eyes full of compassion and kindness. _Eyes that have seen me naked. Blasted fade monkeys!_

With a simple gesture she invited him to sit with her on the soft cushions she had placed before the fireplace for her reading session, and took the brandy and a large plate of ham, cheese, bread and fruits as well.

“A refill for the Captain?” _Griffon’s buttocks! Why do I need to bring up this Templar crap?_

Cullen nodded, thinking the booze might help with the new zillion butterflies fluttering in his giddy stomach. _She’s so close I can smell her perfume, Maker’s breath!_ He took another gulp of this rich and strong brandy, making mess of his curly hair while unconsciously running his hand through it.

They both looked at each other and blurted out simultaneously. “How have you been?” Giggles followed and Callista couldn’t resist the urge to play with her curls, wrapping them around her slender forefinger. “Well, you know, not much… the delightful Blight, charming Archdemon, new colourful friends to say the least … all I’ve ever dreamed about.”

As Cullen tilted his head and raised one eyebrow to make it clear he didn’t buy that, she sighed. “Fine. it seemed impossible, even bizarre. I was just following my gut most of the time, or taking advice from my friends. But to say the truth, killing a Darkspawn or a demon is not so hard as killing a human. At least for me… but sometimes it’s inevitable. Cullen, the numbers I’ve killed are unbelievable, sometimes I’m so tired, I can’t even stand. The Blight is over, but I’m still serving the Warden’s and the task before me is not so much difficult as it’s impossible. But I don’t want to talk about it, I’m here now, resting for a while, I don’t give a crap what tomorrow will bring. So how have you been Cullen?”

 _She called me by my name! Feels so good, hardly anybody calls me Cullen nowadays…_ “Well, after the you know what, I was pretty much useless in Kinloch, the Tower full of both good and dreadful memories, I couldn’t be sure, what was real anymore. So they transferred me here. The change agreed with me, I calmed down and the Knight-Commander…”

Suddenly her finger was on his lips. “I don’t want to hear about her… or the Gallows really.” Cullen’s heart rate shot up, he froze in place and time, oblivious to anything but her forefinger laying against his lips. To his disappointment, she came to her senses and withdrew it with an apologetic smile, only to resume the adorable bashful play with her hair.

“I’m sorry, I won’t mention my duties anymore… so ehm, the weather has been really nice lately…” _Oh fuck, did I just weather her?_

Lis graciously passed over the perfect chance to mock him, and asked _the_ question instead. “As we agreed to put aside our allegiances… I just wanted to ask you… how’s your private life?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. Again. “Well I really don’t have any. Private life I mean. Assuming you aren’t asking about me reading poetry, but whether I have someone in my life. I haven’t… had someone ever since...”

Callista nodded, suddenly feeling sad for him; the man deserved all the love and care in the world.

“Oh and I don’t read poetry either,” Cullen said, rather defensively. “Eh, only once, when I received a letter with a very naughty poem, something about my apparently juicy hindquarters and a few kitchen tools. It also contained disturbingly large female silk panties.”

_Why? Why am I talking about this? Maker help me!_

The blush spreading over the Knight-Captain’s cheeks did nothing to help his confidence. However, Lis caught his eyes, made a mocking pitiful face on him and they both burst in sincere, freeing laughter.

“So, as I’ve successfully made a colossal fool of myself, I say it’s the time the Hero of Ferelden reveal her love life.” The words were stated matter of factly, but from his tensed posture it was apparent he very much cared about her answer.

“Just one man, a fellow Warden back in the Vigil Keep, we were together for three months, but were arguing a lot, he questioned my leading ability, and disobeyed a few of my orders. Finally the only place where Nate and I were not fighting was… oh well I just ended it for the good of the Order. But it’s not easy for me, the abstinence, rumours about Warden’s are pretty much justified.” _Oh I’m such a blighted bitch, why am I flirting with him?_

Cullen swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck once more, searching for any coherent words, failing immensely. Callista stopped fidgeting with her hair finally, unable to move as a strong wave of heated lust rolled over her, starting in her warmed up cheeks, going down it’s tingly path across her heaving breasts, soft sensitive belly, down to her smalls, where it intensified to almost unpleasant throbbing and hot tide into her already wet slit.

 _He’s looking_ _at my breasts!_

As in her many dreams she nonchalantly unlaced the top strap of her tunic, not only to reveal more, but to give the unmistakable signal to the man.

_This would be a disaster!_

Sitting with widely spread legs and crossed ankles, she lowered her hands and placed them on her thighs, painfully aware they were very close to the spot she craved to be touched the most. Cullen didn’t move, but his eyes roamed her body hungrily, taking in each curve and shade of the beauty.

_He’s a Templar, he smells of his last lyrium dose!_

Callista’s smalls became a wet obstacle to her, she needed him inside of her, his chiseled, divine body overpowering her, his weight pinning her to the cushions.

_Oh Blight my ass, I want him!_

Cullen’s brow glistened, his breathing quick and shallow, the black leather pants uncomfortably tight. But still he didn’t move.

_Andraste have mercy, I want her!_

Despite her conscience screaming in protest, the Warden Commander slowly licked her lips, locking Cullen’s eyes in her hazy ones, marvelling at the fact that they both have the amber brown Ferelden eyes, their ever present piece of home.

It felt like eternity, their aroused breathing synchronized, their cravings to touch and being caressed grew with every heartbeat. And then Cullen reached for her, cupping her right cheek in his calloused hand, his fingers deep in the golden curls, with urgency he pulled her closer, licking his lips just before he run his tongue over hers.

“Is this real?” His other hand on the small of her back tightened.

“Yes.”

Cullen smiled against her soft lips; surely this had to be a dream. “Pinch me.”

She bit his lower lip instead, earning a blissful hiss from him, and then it all began. He hugged her so tight she couldn’t even take the very needed, deep, calming breath. Cullen lifted her ass effortlessly, moving her into his lap, wincing with bittersweet pain as her pelvis rubbed against his constricted erection. Before he could remedy this, Lis alone deftly unlaced his pants, freeing his cock from it’s leather cell, both sighing in pleasure as she stroked it with tenderness and adoration. They kissed hungrily. There was no hesitation, no need to test the water, they dove right in, eager and hungry after each other, two pure souls finally reaching their Holy Grail.

One might find the act rushed and sloppy, with no finesse or skill of great lovers, but they simply couldn’t prolong their reunion. Without ever breaking the kiss, Cullen dragged his open palms up her inner thighs, reaching her soaked smalls, forced Lis up, so she hovered above his lap on her knees, the perfect position for him to push aside the garment and feel her heat at last. He positioned his thick rough thumb on her clit, earning him a cascade of half inaudible words uttered in her breathless voice. He heard _fuck, Cullen_ and _wet as never_ , which prompted him to tear her smalls in half, open her tunic to watch her perfect breasts bounce as he pushed her down on his hypersensitive cock. Lis didn’t flinch as his magnificent girth and length filled her entirely, stretching her hard, the moment of the most sweetest pain gone quickly as she began to move; there was no way she could withstand a slow pace. Gripping his shoulders, her nails dug deep in his hard muscles as she rode him, the chase for release fast and furious.

Cullen let her have all the control, he could only hold his hands on sides of her knees, to support her balance, he watched her flushed face with half shut eyes in awe, a few of her erratic moves later, he had to bite his tongue to divert his attention from the threatening orgasm. But his efforts were fruitless, his balls tightened and with deep grunt he started to fill her. Fortunately, his last strong spasm pushed her over the edge and Callista tightened around him. She pulled his head on her chest, in between her breasts where a sweaty path confirmed the passion and earnestness of their love making.

 _I’m holding her, I’m in her, I love her. Maker, kill me now._        

          

          


	22. Steamy Satinalia part two - Let there be light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just read it my dears, lol, tiny bit nsfw... more will continue  
> and Anders is singing in this chapter, so pls listen to the two songs below, it sets the mood
> 
> Soundtrack:  
> Kuss mich - In Extremo  
> Thinking Out Loud - Ed Sheeran
> 
> as always thanks to the amazing TurboNerd for editing

Lyra Hawke emerged inconspicuously from the secret passage door, right of front of her husband’s clinic. She smiled as she saw the lanterns above the double door out of fire, indicating the healer was not inside or too busy to take in any new patients. Her hand on the handle, she hesitated. It had been quite a long time since she had been there, feeling at ease within these shabby walls, Anders’ sanctuary being her own second home. 

The few months of their painful severance transformed the clinic into a dangerous place full of memories and mementos of her husband, the beloved person who betrayed her trust, even though inadvertently. The preemptive shock of Anders not being able to stop Justice from attacking  _ her _ , diverting his own deathly spell in the very last possible moment, simply paralyzed her. Shattered her marriage into razor sharp pieces to lay on the bottom of the dark cold sea she was slowly drowning in. When she finally made it from the suffocating deep waters, she knew the last hundred steps to the safety of the shore would be a torment. Every move forward hurt her, and Lyra welcomed the violent wake up journey, as it brought her back from her grey slumber to the colorful world of the living. Even closer to her man, closer than she had ever been before. He ran in her veins, filled her breath, echoed in her heartbeat. She could never leave him; not without crippling herself for eternity, drowning in sorrow and hollowness.

Now that she knew and accepted this simple truth, Lyra relished the danger, the uncertainty of the very next morning, the constant hiding, running and fighting, the mighty tide of struggle… it was so much easier, than the painful emptiness of being without her beloved. 

So as her fingers encircled the smooth handle, she froze in movement, to capture this happy spell, to make an unique memory of the day she returned into his dominion, feeling welcomed and joyful. She smiled, took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the raw wood. 

His simple “Come in” sent her heart racing, she pushed the door open... 

...and stepped into utter darkness. “Oh bloody socks, Anders?! Where are you?” She scanned the space before her for any signs of light, in vain. “This is not the moment to train your cat-sight!”

A chuckle not far ahead made her jump a little.  _ Oh why do I feel like a five year old playing hide and seek with Carver and his annoying cronies! _

“I’m here love, don’t fret, just follow my voice.” And he started to sing some terrible-sounding ditty, very likely in Anderfels.  

**Küss mich!**

**Küss mich!**

**Küss mich nur einmal...!**

(Kiss me

Kiss me

Kiss me just once)

Lyra expected candles, cuddles, calling of his cock, not some crazy cabal. “Anders! This is no joke! I might fell into a pile of shit or trip over something really sharp!”

“Love, don’t be ridiculous, I have no shit here. And the sharpest thing around is my keen sense of humour. Just try to find me.” He resumed his singing with gusto, tapping his boot in the steady rhythm, the lower register of his voice pleasantly raspy and rich. He sure couldn’t play the lute despite his unwavering efforts, however his singing was quite enjoyable, charming even. The language was strange to her ears, sounding harsh and impossible to pronounce, yet she felt desire and passion, her heart beating faster with every word.

**Ich weiß, ich weiß wie du schläfst;**

**Ich weiß, ich weiß wie du gehst.**

**Meine Säfte bringst du zum Kochen,**

**Ich komm auf allen vieren gekrochen.**

(I know, I know how you're sleeping

I know, I know how you're doing

You boil my juices

I come crawling on all fours)

Threading carefully in the heavy velvet of darkness, Lyra began to feel surprisingly blissful and at peace. The clinic’s unique scent filled her nose and lungs; the sharp and reassuring fragrance of elfroot, pure and delicate crystal grace, a hint of fresh, simple rosemary and lavender, cheap soap and clear water. Lyra missed it so much her eyes became teary, she wanted to carry this familiar fragrance everywhere.      

**Ich weiß, ich weiß wie du riechst;**

**Ich weiß, ich weiß wann du liebst.**

**Durch die Wände wird ich mich recken,**

**Um mich in dir einzubetten.**

(I know, I know what you smell like

I know, I know when you love

I come stretching through the walls

To embed myself in you)

Anders was in his element now, he never fully realized how much he left behind, this funny flirtatious side of himself buried somewhere below Justice. The excitement as he prepared their first romantic evening after such unbearably long dry spell; for the benefit of his woman, to spoil her as she truly deserved made him lightheaded and happy. And very conveniently kept him busy from feeling anxious about the very real possibility of Cullen Fucking Rutherford, being alone with Lis in Lyra’s and his precious safe place. 

Somehow this old song sprung onto his mind, bringing a wicked grin to his lips. He heard it at the market at the age of ten, sung by an old and shabby wandering minstrel. It settled in his mind, a funny hymn of sorts, coming back whenever he saw someone desirable. Back in the Circle he shared it with Karl zestfully, they drove the whole Tower crazy, singing it nonstop almost for a month. Karl’s pronunciation resonated in the halls far better than his, thanks to his Anderfels mother. 

**Mein Geist schwebt über dir,**

**Du kannst mich retten mit ’nem Kuss von dir.**

**Küss mich...**

(My ghost hovers over you

You can rescue me with your kiss

Kiss me…)

“Ouch!” He nearly fall over, as Lyra bumped into his chest hard purely on purpose, after finally locating her husband and using her master stealth skills to take a little revenge. “Woman! You can’t sneak on people like that in the dark!”

“Says the idiot who clearly sold all his lamps for cat bait and Maker knows what blasted needlessness.” 

One arm hugged her waist, the other spanked her ass playfully. “Oh, I’m so fortunate to have married such a delicate and mannered noble woman.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” She needn’t tell him twice; he bent down to her eagerly and the shivers running down her spine intensified. Lyra stood on her tiptoes, in a hurry to meet his wonderfully familiar lips. The pitch black darkness enchanted the kiss, they were not part of this world anymore, floating in close embrace in the safe and comforting blackness. There was no need for eyesight, they saw each other with their souls. Remembering every curve, wave, crook, peak, even the tiniest ripple of their lover’s body, moving in perfect harmony. Two beings entwined, never to be parted again. Worshipers, believers, lovers.  _ Devouts _ .       

Anders pulled an inch away from her lips, still lightly grazing them, as he whispered. “Let here be light.”

A soft warm glow chased away the secrets of darkness, an orb the size of an apple hovered just in arm length above their heads, and slowly, one by one, more began to light up, bathing the clinic in twinkling light. 

The gentle shine mirrored it Lyra’s green eyes as she looked around, in awe. “This is almost like magic!”

Anders grabbed her and swirled in the air, laughing, his amber eyes warm and full of joy. “You would think? It occurred to me that I might owe you at least one perfect date, a few hours of spoiling my ever so devoted wife.”

Curious, Lyra quickly scanned the spacious room, seeing all the cots lined up along the walls, leaving a vast space in the middle. A large mattress on a few planks covered in blankets and pillows sat there, surrounded by three iron baskets filled with wood which caught fire the moment her gaze lingered upon them. Pleasant warmth spread  through the room, the crackling of the fire adding yet another layer of coziness. Her excitement and happiness elevated even to heady bliss, Lyra felt like a spoiled princess indeed. 

At last, her eyes returned to the wonder that was her man and she couldn’t resist to lick her lips. Anders had shortened his overgrown beard, now it was neatly groomed just an inch from his jawline, the color of dark honey, it suited him well. The usual messy half-ponytail of his hair was still damp, he clearly washed it only a moment ago, few almost dry strands framed his face in pure perfection. Her man was dressed very casually, a thin white shirt opened entirely, leaving his chest bare, tempting her to caress his lean, well-defined body. He replaced his usual leather pants with far more comfortable ones, made of beige linen, loose in fitting. Her shameless man wore them deucedly low, far below his slim waist, the sensual lines of his pelvic V exposed, making Lyra’s fingers twitched with desire to trace them all the way down under the thin fabric. And the obvious absence of underwear; a sweet cherry atop this sweet cake of raw machismo. 

“Fuck… you look… well really…”        

“I believe the word you’re searching for is stunning. Or _ fuckable _ ?” Anders loved teasing her, another pleasure he missed dearly in those months of separation. The deep breath she took indicated he hit the spot.  _ So now we go, love. _

“Serah Hawke, you have too much clothes on your divine body, may I be so bold and remedy this flagrant folly?” His fingers traced lightly the outlines of her cloak, lingering over the buckle on her chest. 

Serah Hawke found her words at last. “Permission granted, anything for the tall, fuckable gentleman.” The heavy traveling cloak flew through the air and landed on one of the nearer cots, followed by a bright girlish giggle, as Anders bowed in a lavish curtsy in front of his woman. “Would my wonderful wife honor me with a dance?”

Raising one eyebrow his wife studied him with suspicion. “She most graciously would, but there’s no music to dance to. You aren’t planning to play the lute, are you?” 

Not granting that slightly offensive tease with an actual answer, Anders took her hand and firmly encircled her waist with the other one, pulling her into his frame, her tight leather corset pressed against his naked chest felt so good, he very much appreciated her caged heavily lifting breasts and wildly beating heart. 

The tall dark blonde mage began to sway slowly, the petite black haired rogue following his lead with catlike grace, placing her cheek on his chest, taking in his divine scent; a perfect combination of elfroot, sandalwood, fresh parchment and something unearthly that was distinctly Anders. The warmth of his body, the steady beating of his heart, this was her home, her treasured sanctuary. He ran his fingers along her spine, then twirled her around under his arm, catching her, supporting her back and lowering her close to the ground, running his palm over her corset buckles.

**And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways**

**Maybe just the touch of a hand**

**Oh me I fall in love with you every single day**

**And I just wanna tell you I am**

**So honey now**

**Take me into your loving arms**

**Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars**

**Place your head on my beating heart**

Eyes not leaving her flushed face, a light tug on her corset, he begged in a husky whisper. “May I free you, love?”

Lyra deftly unfastened the three buckles in response, tossing the leather corset behind her, and returned into his loving embrace only in his old, worn shirt, her precious spoil from the very beginning of their relationship. They both moaned blissfully at the contact, Anders forgot to sing, the music playing in his head only, his lips busy with sensual kisses. Because of their height difference, he wasn’t able to reach all the crooks and curves that deserved to be worshipped, so he started to dance slowly towards the mattress, moving closer with every sway of his hips while running his needy hands all over her upper body. One hand on the small of her back pushing her into his growing erection, the other cupping her breast, fondling it until his wife moaned and whispered his name with passionate urgency.           

He resumed his singing in a barely audible whisper, not even sure where he left off…

**So honey now**

**Take me into your loving arms**

**Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars**

**Place your head on my beating heart**

**I'm thinking out loud**

**Maybe we found love right where we are**

Anders almost jumped up as Justice suddenly intruded in this intimate moment and requested in a solemn voice; 

_ Why are you singing such useless frivolities, you should read her our Manifesto again, so this meeting of yours has a valid purpose! _

Anders fought hard not to roar aloud.  

_ We left copies of the blasted Manifesto all over the house, even in her breastband drawer! How dare you interrupt! We agreed you’ll be quiet, that you let us live for at least few days! You are the reason I almost killed my wife! Back off! Sofort!* _

Lyra felt him tense; his back rigid, the grip on her hand intensified. “Anders, what’s wrong? Why have you stopped singing, it was…” She saw an almost imperceptible icy blue line running along his jaw, disappearing behind his ear, he let go of her and just stood mere inches from her, looking trapped in a cage of his own mind, the most private and intimate place of all, plagued with a permanent intruder. Against her better judgement, Lyra addressed the Spirit inside her husband. 

“Justice, don’t! Let him live with me, let me love my husband and I will aid you to the best of my best ability. I won’t rest until the Circle is broken. I swear.” Her stomach appeared to be full of disturbingly eerie movements, which made her sick. Terrified but determined to reason with the Spirit, guided by an unknown primal instinct, she placed a soft kiss on his nonresponding lips.  _ Oh dearest, this is so fucked up!  _

She pulled away and overcoming her deepest terrors, the memory of his attack still painfully fresh, Lyra met his eyes. Icy blue. Sharp. Their gaze stripped her of all protective layers, leaving only a raw core, all her thoughts and secrets unprotected, on display for him. Lyra Amellia Hawke naked as her nameday, being judged by Justice.

Strange coolness ran through her body, she froze on spot as her heartbeat slowed, yet she heard each thump louder than the previous. Her breath, the rhythmical song of her heart filled every corner of her mind; nothing else mattered. Except his eyes. Icy blue, though not cold. His somehow strange fingers brushed her lips, slid slowly down to her neck, leaving a tingly line, stopping just over her heart. Lyra felt as if lingering on the threshold of consciousness, surely she would faint any moment now. 

_ Anders, where are you?  _

His open palm moved up and down with her ribcage, and he leaned towards her, stopping mere inches from her quivering lips.  

_ You are worthy, you are just. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sofort! = In an instant!


	23. Steamy Satinalia part three - Damn it, Anders :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well hmm let's see... smut... and smut... so nsfw obv lol
> 
> Soundtrack: Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran
> 
> as always thanks to my dear TurboNerd for marvelous editing and patience  
> And if you find this funny, hot, silly, terribly wrong... please do leave a comment... I love every feedback ❤

Lyra Hawke stood tall, legs rooted to the floor of the Clinic, her breathing deep and slow, making her head dizzy. Her bright green eyes locked on the icy blue ones, so strange in the familiar face of her husband. His open palm pressed to her chest. She felt its transcendental touch directly on her heart, Justice held her captive for the moment, his words still echoed in between them, she wasn’t even sure whether he said them aloud or somehow branded them into her mind. 

**_You are worthy, you are just._ **

Slowly, with every other heartbeat, the outlandish feelings of fear, excitement and the eerie intimate connection to the unearthly Spirit fell back, and Lyra felt surprisingly calm and safe. Safe in front of Justice, the same and yet so different essence to the vengeful being that tried to kill her at the hands of her beloved man. Now there was  _ peace. _

Anders’ hand slipped down her chest, the icy blue orbs hid behind closed eyelids. A sharp inhale widened up his nostrils and raised up his chest. Lyra made a few attempts to speak, her voice strangely uncooperative.  _ Anders, where are you? _

Finally, first only in whisper, she managed to vocalize her question, hoping for  _ his _ true lively voice to answer.

“Anders, are you there?”

Gingerly she raised her hands, and placed them over the smooth warm skin on his chest, to feel his beating heart. “Beloved?”

All of the sudden, his hands moved over hers, caressing them with affection. Anders opened his eyes and indeed they were his true warm amber color, hungrily taking in every feature of Lyra’s face. And she felt overjoyed, as if seeing him for the first time after a long separation. Looking down into her radiant face, Anders raised her hands to his lips, brushing them over her knuckles, kissing the back of her hand softly, nuzzling his cheek in her palm. He felt so relieved and equally guilty. The usual mess. 

“Love… I’m so sorry for all this…”

_ Anders, do calm yourself. Hawke is worthy, she’s just. She is our ally. I vow not to disturb you henceforth. Be at peace. _

The mage could hardly believe it, after all the fights he and Justice had over his wife, how could this be?

_ Justice, are you fucking kidding me?  _

_ Anders, you know I don’t understand the concept. And I can’t act against my very essence, the truth. _

_ Well then… Danke schönn!* _

Anders smiled, wrapping his arms around his wonderful woman, hugging her tight, while kissing the top of her head, whispering into her fragrant hair. “Love, what did you do? Justice is no longer fighting me, he approves of you! But how…?”

Lyra laughed, kissing his bare chest she was so comfortably snuggled in. “Well I just kissed him and let him fondle my breasts!”

“WHAAT?” His voice faltered, this felt so strange and wrong, to know Justice acted for him, talked to Lyra, even touched her with his own hands. 

“Anders! I’m kidding! Everything is fine! Dance with me and kiss me… pveddy pveeeease?”

He looked down into her puppy dog eyes, she was so damn cute, pouting her full lips, there was no way he could resist to fulfill her every whim.  _ Oh fuck Justice!  _ He bent down, scooped her in his arms, growled somewhat comically in answer to her delighted squeals. “I’m so done with dancing, my dear.” Reaching the mattress, he dropped Lyra unceremoniously on the pillows, earning a cascade of giggles. 

“Did my better half bring the scented oils?”

“She did, they’re in her coat, you so eagerly tossed away earlier.” Lyra beamed, pondering over the promising scenario. 

“Excellent. Don’t you dare move, beautiful!” Anders turned to retrieve her coat as quickly as possible, practically running back to his noble lady, whistling sharply when he saw her.

His noble lady left alone for mere seconds, took the opportunity to strip entirely, she was now resting on the stomach, her mischievously smiling face looking up to him, propped on elbows. The inviting curve of her delicious tushy elevated his heartbeat and made his cock twitch.  _ Wait for it, you dick. _

The blonde mage grinned happily, once again wondering how was it even possible for this woman to love him so. “Love, how come you read my mind?”

“I just made a guess, based on the adorable bulge in your pants. Won’t you take them down to prove I was right?” She licked her lips very slowly, spreading her thighs a bit more, sending a clear invitation to her man. 

Anders gulped, his cock twitched eminently in confirmation. “Not just yet, I’ll wait until you beg for it. Now it’s oil - spoil time.” He stepped behind her and settled down, sitting on her thighs just below her tushy. He then reached with his right hand to her head, tickled the side of her neck, earning a blissful moan from his kitten. “Rest now, love.”

With a blithe smile Lyra snuggled deeper into the soft pillow, and closed her eyes to submerge in the darkness, a little lighted up with the glimmer of the magical orbs creeping in through her eyelids. She wanted to feel every touch of his as sharply as possible, let his velvety voice fill her head and feed the excited butterflies in her stomach. 

Anders grabbed the small ornate bottle, pulled out the cork with his teeth and inhaled the sweet fragrance, a mixture of roses, violets, and some more subtly smelling flower he couldn’t identify. With precision he let drops fall down on Lyra’s shoulder blades, and all along her spine, ending on the little cushions of her cute ass. He licked his forefinger and traced all the drops, one by one, making an invisible line on her back, grinning with delight over the slow rippling of her muscles, as Lyra responded to his teasing touch. 

More oil on his palms and he began the caress her back, a perfect mixture of healer’s massage and lover’s provocative ministrations. The oil erased all the friction, his hands warm, tingly with a subtle electricity sizzle, gliding with ease over her skin, loosening her stiff muscles, relieving all the long building up tension. He started on her shoulders, the sides of her neck, she always tended to carry her troubles there, eventually making her head hurt. So he let his thumbs work deeper in her muscles, the increased pressure was needed for the absolute laxation.                     

“Oh Andraste’s flaming panties, this is sooooo good. Ahhh, Andersss, we have to break up more often!” 

In response to this blasphemy Anders spanked her right buttock with the perfect amount of force to stir up the exquisite mixture of arousal and elusive pain. 

“Evil woman, stop vexing the cougar, or he’ll punish you justly.” Anders made the best account of his loose thin breeches to place his aroused dick in the delightful cleft of her bottom, relishing in the way it moved along the line, following his body, as he worked on Lyra’s back. The friction and pressure made him hiss and sigh for more. 

Finally he reached her bottom, she hummed and rippled beneath his hands, her whole body grateful for every touch and caress. He started to knead her bum, creating more friction for his cock as well, his breathing more labored from the building titillation, sweat began to form on his brow, the loose strands of his hair sticking to his neck. 

“Someone has still way too much unnecessary clothing. Drop the pants, silly.” Lyra’s voice was soft and lustful, drunk from all the loving attention she was receiving.

“Hmmm… yep.” Anders stood up, feeling a bit dizzy, shrugged down his breeches and crawled over her on all fours, lowering down on his arms, settling his cock once again in between her buns, kissing the side of her neck, nuzzling his nose in her hair. Knowing very well her shoulders and upper back being strongly responsive to his touches, he branded invisible lines and patterns into her skin with hot passionate kisses, letting the tip of his tongue out between his lips, teasing her further. A small spot between her shoulderblades exceptionally incendiary, his intense kisses left her writhing and begging for more. Lyra lifted her ass slightly, she was ready, craving to be filled by her man, to be taken; to be his.

Anders acknowledged her desire by moving a little lower, and positioned his almost painfully aroused dick, so it’s tip was just grazing along her wet entrance, dipping only ever so slightly in the inviting soft warm slit. Lyra made a feeble attempt to move her ass lower, driven crazy by this teasing, desperate to take him wholly inside her, squeeze his cock with her inner muscles, so he would scream her name out loud, gasping for breath.

But her man weighed her down with his powerful body, trapping her beneath without any chance for fulfilling her needs. As she complained with incoherent hissing noises, he began to kiss and nibble her earlobe, hot breath on her neck, his hard dick gently teasing her entrance, she was reduced to a lustful, craving, suppliant and mellow form, her mind oblivious to anything but his scent, touches and kisses, the bittersweet torture of unfulfilled primal need. 

As if from afar, even though his lips touched her ear, she heard his husky whisper. “Do you want me?” 

Lyra bit her lips, knitted her eyebrows, doubled her fists. “Damn it, Anders, YES!!!” His wife was practically sobbing now, utterly under his spell. A kiss between her shoulderblades and he was in, pushing inch by inch deeper, letting her adjust to his strong arousal. Lyra whimpered softly, still not satisfied, she wished he would move more forcefully, to stimulate her sensitive inner walls with more intense contact. “I… need… to move against you.”

Anders took a deep breath to calm down, steadied himself on one hand, grabbed Lyra’s pelvic bone with the other and hoist them both up, so he was straightened up kneeling behind Lyra, holding her bottom tightly, she was on all fours, her upper body just inches from the pillows. She was propped on her elbows, offering her tush to him, waiting for Anders to set the pace. And that he did. Rocking his pelvis forth and back slowly, his dick almost leaving her slick and soft sheath every time, only to push back in deeper and deeper, stretching her, hitting all the right spots, earning lustful moans and whispers from his woman. 

“Aaah… faster…” Lyra slammed her ass into him, at the end of her patience, he teased her for too long. She needed her man to lose control and simply race to his orgasm, to stop thinking about her pleasure; she would find her glorious satiation in his.

Anders obliged enthusiastically, quickening his moves, adding force, fingers digging deeper in the flesh of her hips. Although he kept his amber eyes wide open, his gaze became unfocused, his surroundings foggy and meaningless, nothing mattered but the woman before him, taking him in, vulnerable in her true nature, giving him all he had ever dared to dream of and more than he could ever hope for. He closed his eyes, the light a distraction, he as well prefered darkness, to magnify the effect of every touch, move, scent and moan. His hand traced a path from her hip along the line to her loins, reaching the little bundle of nerves, causing Lyra to scream his name loudly, his slightest touch clearly too intense in her twittery state. 

So he let his hand follow her side to the armpit, then down along to the forearm she rested her weight upon and reached her right hand finally. Covering it with his own, kneading their fingers together, he guided her in between her thighs, implying he was leaving Lyra to tend to her throbbing clit. 

His wife exhaled sharply, steadied herself on her left forearm, thankful for the training routine that made her muscles tough and strong. As Anders grabbed her hips once more to slam deep into her, she rubbed her touch craving clit quickly and mercilessly, chasing her release, the glorious elusive moment of being shattered into thousands of pieces, the blessed emptiness of mind, the desired détente of all the build up tension in her body. 

At this point Anders’ firm belly was glistening with sweat, his abs rippling under the smooth skin, he moaned in a raspy voice, his mouth dry and thirsty but he couldn’t keep it shut. “I love… you… I’m yours… always.” There was no going back, no slowing down, no rest. He needed to go faster, sink deeper, fill her. His woman. His Lyra. 

_ Meine.* _ And he came with such intensity, it made him bend his head backwards, gasping for breath, wide open eyes blind to the sudden multiple explosions of the small twinkling orbs he had conjured before. 

Lyra felt him pulsate in her, hitting the exact spot needed for her to win the chase. For in his satiation she would find hers. And it came. It hit her. She was fucking high.                                                            

__

* _ Danke schönn!  _ Thank you very much!  

* _ Meine.  _ Mine. __


	24. Harsh Morning Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Callista had to say their goodbyes... prepare a box of tissues :D
> 
> Soundtrack: Christina Perri - For a Thousand Years

The Knight-Captain slowly woke up from an unusually deep and nightmare-free sleep; his senses sharpened one by one. He lay snug in a comfortable soft bed, the expensive sheets smelling of lavender and soap. They felt sinfully decadent against his naked skin, accustomed to the rough wool and stiff linen of his cot in the Gallows. Cullen looked around. The unfamiliar, tastefully decorated room puzzled him for a second, until his memory caught up with him, and a contented smile lit up his face.

Oh, he wouldn’t ever forget even a moment of the night he spent at Hawke’s. The night didn’t end with their rushed love-making. It only took a short time of blissful cuddles and intimacies, until they were ready again. This time he didn’t let Lis set the pace, Cullen wanted to do everything he had ever dreamed of, pleasuring his love to the point she would scream his name; sweaty, breathing hard, greedy for his dick.

Cullen grinned, pleased with his skillful mouth, as he recalled the three very loud orgasms he licked and sucked from her. He was able to hold out long enough for them to switch positions, wrapping it all up on a writing desk; papers and quills flying around as he slammed into her, quickened the pace, driven by moans and spasms of her tight slit. His warrior’s rough calloused hands roamed her body, Lis resting on her back on the table, all of her beauty for him to marvel at. Her smooth, flawless skin, fast heaving breasts with small hardened nipples, dark pink from his hungry attention, slender waist, one of her graceful hands near her mouth. His Sun bit on her own middle finger, while the other worked on her swollen clit, following the rhythm of his forcefull fucking. 

The orgasm left him panting for breath, trembling with glorious exhaustion, mumbling her name and thousands of thanks. Afterwards they cleaned up the mess and moved upstairs in the guest room, crashed on the bed, Cullen spooned her and they drifted to sleep, halfway in a silly conversation. Sometime in the night Lis woke him in a way he would very much prefer to be raised for the rest of his life; her soft tongue circling the head of his dick, making him squirm and moan in ecstasy. The memory of her eagerly swallowing his sperm, then kissing his lips with a mischievous giggle roused him, and Cullen sat up, scanning the room for his tiny Sun.

Callista sat with her back to him by the open window, the morning breeze playing with her tangled golden curls. She was in his shirt, looking exceptionally fragile and vulnerable.

Cullen didn’t bother dressing up, naked as his nameday, he padded towards her, placed his heavy hands on her shoulders, aching for her as he felt them tremble. “Tiny Sun, are you crying?”

“Of course not, I don’t cry, I’m the Hero of Ferelden.” The loud snuffle gave her away and a sad smile settled on his lips, the cruel reality of the harsh morning hitting him in the gut, his heart skipped a beat. They had to part. And soon, as he needed to sneak back in the Gallows before anyone noticed their Knight-Captain was gone the whole night. Would she stay at least a few days for him?  _ But what was the point?... _

A terrible wave of guilt and misery washed over him.  _ Maker, what was I thinking? This is how messy it gets, when you let your heart and dick overrule your brain. How can I walk away from her now? _

Callista let out a badly muffled sigh and whispered in a cold flat voice. “The Sun is quite high, you should go.”

Cullen frowned, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “Lis, don’t do this. Don’t ruin the last moments we have together, I beg you…“ His own voice failed him, he wasn’t used to expressing his feelings, let alone such powerful ones. Cullen himself felt surprised by the depth of his affections. Only now the Knight-Captain realised he had walked in shadows for years, in a grey-scaled slumber, a hollow place in his heart. In her, he saw blindingly bright colors once more, a fucking rainbow.

His rainbow roused from her chair and slowly turned to face him. Red, swollen eyes, glistening paths from tears that had to be running down her cheeks for some time, one salty drop sliding over her upper lip. An unexpected smile lit up Lis’ gloomy face.

“You’re naked.”

Cullen couldn’t help but grin in return.

“You took my shirt.”

In a heartbeat Callista pulled the shirt over her head, golden curls falling down on her bare breasts, now they faced each other as equals. Cullen closed the distance and wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her into his chest. Delighted as Lis pressed her pointy ear over his fluttering heart, he kissed the top of her head, grazing the tip of his nose through her hair, to take in the scent that quickened his breath unfailingly every time. As if from afar he heard his own steady voice.

“If you want, I will go with you. Anywhere.”  _ Really? Care to think about that for a few? _

“I mean… I want to be with you… but...”  __

Slowly building frustration made his fists double, nails digging deep into the palms, knuckles turning white. 

“Cullen, breathe.” Not until Lis said it he realized the tension in his chest, caused by lack of air in his lungs. “I hate to say this, but there’s no place for us. I have a difficult mission to fulfil, your duty lies here. I’m a mage, you’re a Templar…” 

The lovers held their breath, Lis’ simple statement of the obvious truth hit hard. Being a mage or Templar meant you were trained to be wary of the other side, even to expect a deadly attack. They were counterparts, cats and dogs, demons and spirits, water and flame. Such an union bizarre and undesirable for all of Thedas. Callista cursed, hitting his chest with her tiny fist. “Oh blighted pigeon crap!”

“I… uh what?” The pigeon bit butted in Cullen’s doomy thoughts. 

“One of my friends’ favorite slurs… nevermind that… Cullen, we simply can’t be. Not now… maybe things will change someday…”

“Yeah… maybe they will…” A moment of pregnant silence engulfed the pair, both painfully aware of the lie they clung to. Lis knew she couldn’t give him enough years together, not unless she succeeded in her seemingly impossible mission; Cullen suddenly saw a poor lyrium addict shadow of a man; his future didn’t hold sunlit decades either.

Looking absently through the window, it took him quite a while to realise, the Sun was indeed up, ascending insistently, leaving him with only a few precious moments to spare.  _ Fuck this! _

Lis felt a shift in his stance, and moaned longingly in response to his tighter embrace and twitching dick.  _ This would be their last time… and Griffon’s buttocks they should hurry. _

The Knight-Captain swept the Warden Commander off her feet with nonchalant ease as if he had daily practise and carried her to the luxurious bed. His tiny Sun, his  _ love. _ He didn’t say the words but every touch, every kiss, every caress an undoubted confirmation of his heart’s desires, of his true allegiances. Cullen made  _ love _ to her, never broke their eye contact, two pairs of warm, brown, Ferelden eyes locked together,speaking of passion, sincerity, and loyalty. Soft moans sounded like prayers, two sinners found salvation in each other, the purity of their joining unmatched, the impending parting adding the aspect of sacrifice. They laid their naked hearts on the altar, and branded them to bear their lover’s imprint for eternity.          

…………………………………….

Cullen stood in only his leather pants in the dimly lit hallway, staring at the pile of armor and clothes he left there yesterday. Soft, barely audible footsteps interrupted his musings, with great effort he conjured a gentle smile, they still had a few moments left together, the painful grimace could wait until he shut the door on them. 

Lis, calm and resigned, stroked his forearm lightly, handing over his shirt. Wordlessly Cullen began to dress, with every layer of clothes he felt more trapped, such weight pushing down his shoulders, every bit of him tired, exhausted and bitter towards the future. Future that held no promise, no joy, no love. Duty and loneliness ahead, but Cullen was nothing if not dutiful. His fingers trembled, the straps and buckles unyielding, he fumbled with them unsuccessfully. 

“Here, let me.” Lis whispered, not waiting for his answer, her tiny fast hands taming the straps, she moved around him gracefully, and soon enough there was nothing left to clad besides his gauntlets. 

His eyes lingered on the simple leather strap wrapped in three circles around his wrist with one tiny wooden bead on it. Feeling a bit silly Cullen untied the knot. “I uhm would like to give you this as something to remember me by… it’s not much, but I’ve been wearing it for a while now, it somehow relaxes me, when I play with the bead… First Enchanter Irving gave it to me shortly after Uldred’s bloody mess…”  

Callista took the length of cord from his open palm, brushing over the smooth amber colored wooden bead, it felt warm and pleasant to touch, she could understand the soothing effect. 

“Cullen, I would love to… but won’t you miss it?”

The warrior smiled and cupped her cheek. “Now I have the memories of this wonderful night to shield me against all the darkness that may come.”

The Warden Commander dimpled and turned her back to the warrior, lifting the thick blond curls, offering her neck. Cullen fastened the leather strap there, tracing the lines of Lis’ shoulders, caressing the side of her neck, earning a barely audible wistful moan from his love.

She shook her head as if to wake up from a dream then reached for her pointed ear, took down one of the simple steel circlets with small gemstones dangling from it, in the eye-catching warden rich blue color. Turning back to Cullen she pressed the jewel into his palm, closed it firmly, brought it to her lips and kissed his stiff knuckles one by one. Before Cullen could recover and voiced his protest, Lis grinned endearingly. 

“No, it wasn’t expensive and you don’t need to pierce your ear and wear it either. You can put it on a chain around your neck or keep it under your pillow perhaps.”

Cullen nodded, biting his lip hard. He wanted to say it, to shout the three words from every window there was. But to what purpose? Their goodbyes would be more painful and difficult for it. Tucking the earring in the safety of his Templar skirt’s inner pocket he made an attempt to hug Lis, and cursed in frustration from his heavy armor depriving him the desired intimacy.

“Maferath’s hairy arse!... Oh sorry, it’s just that I want to hug you so badly...”

Callista looked at him, surprisingly composed, her amber eyes soft and warm. “I love you, Cullen.” 

_ Oh sweet Andraste she said it! _

“I…“ The most untimely dry lump in his throat made it impossible to proclaim his love, even though in his mind the three words ran in a never-ending circle, the most devoted prayer. If Cullen didn’t know better he would certainly thought a powerful enchantment possessed him, casting a bond to this woman for eternity. The overwhelming emotions gripped his heart painfully.  _ Now I’m hurting her even more! I’m the Templar, she’s the mage, we better part for good…  _

Avoiding eye contact, Cullen pressed a gentle kiss on Lis’ forehead, scooped the gauntlets in his arms and made a beeline to the door.  _ I can’t look back, that would be my doom. _

Callista, frozen on the spot, her chin quivering, closed her eyes, she couldn’t watch him leave in such a shameful manner. She never thought he might act like a coward, afraid of his own feelings. Feelings she simply knew he had for her, his every gaze and touch betrayed him, he had always been a miserable liar.

Cullen stepped in the daylight, shut the door on the temptress, but instead of speeding towards the Gallows and very plausible trouble, he let his gauntlets tumble to the marble threshold, leaned his back against the door, his fist doubled on their own accord, and hit the wood behind him hard. The door rattled and his hands hurt, the pain brought the much needed outlet, some of the frustration left and his busing mind cleared significantly. 

_ Andraste preserve me, what wretched creature I’ve become? _

Callista, tore out of her grimm musing as  the door rattled under forceful punches, then flung open and heavy footsteps echoed through the empty hallway, opened her eyes just in time to see Cullen’s haggard face before her. The warrior took her hands into his rough ones, caressing them so passionately it almost hurt, mumbling the words she wanted to hear above all else. “I love you… I’m so sorry… I love you… I’m an idiot… I love you… please, please forgive me…” 

Lis smiled and pulled him down for a hungry kiss, before she would melt down into a puddle of trembling joy. She loved to kiss him, she had to, she couldn’t ever stop. Sucked on his lower lip, ran the tip of her tongue along the contours of the upper one, meeting his own eager tongue to taste him, to feast on her man. Cullen buried his fingers in her hair, running his thumb along the outline of her ear, caressing the now earring free lobe gently. His other hand traveling over her lower back, he very much desired to grab her exquisite ass and grind his arousal into his lover, but the full armor and late hour stopped him. With a desperate sigh he ended the kiss and pulled away. 

“Ouch!” A nippy slap on his cheek startled the Knight-Captain. 

Lis grinned mischievously. “Don’t you ever pull this crap on me again, you adorable idiot.”

Smiling back, Cullen kissed the tip of her nose softly, looking away to hide the lovesick puppy look that was slowly creeping into his face.

“Tiny Sun, I have to leave.”

Lis nodded, words failed her for once.

Cullen took both her gentle hands into his, and kissed them, nuzzling his cheek over the knuckles. “Please be careful out there… I need you whole, because one day, I’ll find you again, I swear.”

Lis reached up, cupped his cheek, ran her thumb over Cullen’s lower lip, taking in all the features of his handsome face, imprinting her lover into her mind eternally. 

“And you’ll find me whole, I promise. Now go, before I fall into pieces.”

Callista watched him leave, his glorious shape against the bright daylight, as he stood in the open door, reluctant to leave her behind. Lis lifted the token he gave her to her lips, and with that beautiful image in mind, the Templar parted with his dearest mage. 

Afterwards, the Warden-Commander stood in the hallway, her head surprisingly empty, unable to focus, to take in any cue. Oblivious to the unexpected gift of their passion.  


	25. The Blond Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a slightly different opening scene to the third Act, I used a few lines from the game, but added way more. So don't expect it to be canon.  
> Also if you had missed it, I rewrote the very first chapter of my story, you're welcome to it ;)  
> I apologize for the insane time gap, I'll try to write quicker.  
> As always a special thank you to my amazing editor TurboNerd, you sure need to read her works as well.

Lyra Hawke shifted uncomfortably in her sleep, feeling a peculiar warmth weighted down on her chest, she couldn’t breathe freely. Then something cold and wet pressed against the tip of her nose and she woke with a loud yell, startled with the sensation, what she imagined, must have been two long legged spiders running across her cheeks. The sinkstone on her chest finally gone enabled Lyra to breathe and talk again. Well, yell actually.  

“AAArrrggghh scurvy dogs!”

“Love, tune down the noise, will you? You’re freaking out the poor kitty!

Seeing Anders, stand in front of her in only his pants, cuddling a  _ huge  _ grey and white ball of fluff against his chest, it all sunk in place. 

“Your poor _ kitty  _ tried to suffocate me!” The yellowish eyes glared at Lyra from her husband’s arms, omniscient and superior. 

Anders pouted, bend down to kiss the beast between its ears. “Nonsense. He was just trying to get to know you better. Weren’t you, Ser Fluffy Fluff?”

Eyebrow raised, her mouth twitching, Lyra searched for something to put on and slipped into Anders’ thin shirt, tied the strap loosely across her chest and padded towards the two beautiful beasts of prey. “Now there, Ser F… no I honestly can’t say that… I’m gonna go with Cat... “ a disgruntled snort erupted from her husband. “I should have expected such blasphemy from a person, who is calling her dog - Dog.”

Lyra grinned while scratching the fluffy cat under it’s chin, rewarded with the loudest purr she had ever heard. “What’s wrong with Dog and Cat, it’s convenient and fairly accurate. Everyone knows who I am shouting at.”

Anders let the cat down gently and pulled the rogue into his arms instead. “By this logic I should be addressing you as ‘Amazing Ass’ all the time.” He grabbed her buttocks possessively. “Or maybe ‘Bouncy Bosom’...” he cupped her right breast and squeezed slightly, marveling at it’s perfect size and shape, running his thumb teasingly over the already pert nipple earning a lustful moan from Lyra. “Perhaps ‘Pleading Pussy’? Any other suggestions, love?” His left hand traveled down from Lyra’s ass along her hip bone down towards his ultimate prize, just laying his open palm over her sex, looking into radiant green eyes, trying to maintain a serious face. Not a chance, the merry laughter already escaped his lips.

Lyra leaned into his frame, offering her lips eagerly. She loved his playful flirtatious side, yet found herself impatient. She didn’t want to be teased, she yearned for deeds, no words could appease her. “I only need you to go down on me. Like right freakin’ NOW!”

Anders grinned, swept Lyra of her feet and plopped her unceremoniously onto the mattress, delighted with her happy giggles and coquettishly wiggling eyebrows. 

In the same moment as he dropped to his knees and started to crawl over his woman, growling and purring like a blissful feline beast, a very loud pounding rattled the clinic’s door. 

“Andraste’s lily-white ass! Can’t a man just devour his wife in this blasted hole?” Anders shot up, and ran for the door, already in healer mode, completely forgetting the intimate alterations of the clinic interior, not to mention his almost naked rogue in between the tousled sheets. 

Lyra miraculously discovered her pants and shirt just in time to dive behind the large column. There was no way hiding the evidence of their passionate night, but she at least could maintain some decorum. Once dressed, she peeked out of her hiding place, troubled with raised voices. Two men were carrying the bloody, unconscious form of a girl, although in such a state Lyra couldn’t be sure from the distance. Anders rushed to his desk for his first aid kit, barking orders, some, it seemed, even directed to her. She hurried to help, fetching water, handing bandages and tonics, cleaning instruments and all the bloody mess around. Anything… Anders exhausted, all his mana poured into the barely breathing girl, Lyra became anxious when he demanded the third lyrium potion. She could taste the cold, metallic substance on her own tongue, the very air was full of it. Lyra noticed the tremor of her healer’s hands, the sweat on his brow, his glassy, feverish and more and more desperate eyes; Anders was going to lose the girl.

When she saw the skinny chest become still, her deep set eyes behind the closed lids ceased twitching, Lyra closed her own for a moment, rubbing the bridge of the nose, taking a deep breath to acknowledge the loss. With a sickly smile and ache in her heart she grabbed Anders’ hand, which was already reaching for another lyrium potion. She expected her husband’s reluctance to accept the end, to try even when there was no hope left. 

The look he gave her chilled Lyra to her bones; such despair, sorrow and guilt filled his amber eyes. The moment engulfed her and tears started rolling freely down Lyra’s cheeks, hence she alone was surprised with the steady and reassuring voice that came from her mouth, trying to console her dearest. 

“Anders… I’m so sorry.” She hugged his slender waist and snuggled into his still bared chest, his skin damp with sweat, the wild thumping of his heart resonated in Lyra’s ears. She raised her head, tried to capture his eyes, but sadly the healer was lost in thought, in a world of memories and horrors he had never shared with his wife. A part of her wished he wouldn’t care so deeply, that every lost battle wouldn’t leave a scar on his wide open heart, and yet Anders’ sympathy, love and devotion to the poor and forgotten souls, was one of the many reasons she loved her husband. Lyra hated she couldn’t shield him from his suffering. “Anders… let her go. It’s not your fault, my beloved.”

Anders let the vial slip from between his fingers, it shattered on the ground and the sharp noise woke him up from the fatalistic trance. He finally acknowledged Lyra’s presence and pulled her even closer into his embrace, kissing the top of her head gratefully. The moment of intimacy passed and the healer turned to the men, who were still standing there in the horrorstruck silence. 

“Who did this?”

The taller, redheaded one, his shirt stained with blood, stared transfixed at the lifeless form, his deep voice full of disbelief. “She just wanted to see her mother one last time before they lock her up. She tried to plead with the escort to wait a while longer, so she could say a proper goodbye, as they came to take her away before her mother made it home from the laundry. This was their response. They beat her in the middle of Lowtown and no one dared to intervene...”

The smaller and younger one stopped studying his shabby boots and returned Anders’ intent gaze. “We wanted to help, but we were afraid, Ser. We waited for them to leave first...”  

Seeing Anders’ eyes flash with icy blue, Lyra stepped forward and reassured them of the righteousness of their actions. She stood beside the Maker-forsaken child, stroked her fine, brown curls, wanted to comfort the poor baby, to let her feel a gentle and loving touch for the last time. Late; once again she was too late to save an innocent life.  _ Daddy… Carver… mother… Bethany, are you safe, my little sis? Are you still the Sunshine? Or are you tortured? Frightened of any shadow in the halls, praying every night I would come and rescue you?  _

Hurried footsteps echoed through the clinic along with a familiar, brisk voice interrupted the silence. “Oh there you are! I should have known, Hawke! Crispy fresh news, Orsino is in Hightown trying to piss off Meredith even more in front of the nobles. You should be there!” Varric took in the scene in front of him, and froze on spot. 

“By the bloody Stone! Templars?”

Lyra nodded, her lips in a thin line, her temper building; someone had to answer and suffer for this. She sought out Anders’ eyes, relieved they were still amber brown, despite the tense moment. “Go ahead, love. I should see to the girl and search for her mother... just be careful, I beg of you!”

Taking the stairs through the secret passage to her cellars by two or three at once, Varric cursing his short legs behind her, Lyra ran to her room and armored herself at top speed. Passing a small mirror, she noticed a bloody smear across the bridge of her nose.  _ Only fitting! _

The two rogues slammed the door behind them and hastened to the Chantry. Varric, breathing heavily, was no swift runner. 

“Hawke, are you aware that you have blood across your nose?”

“Yep.”

“Do you know there’s gonna be noble pricks, right?” 

“Yep.”

“Care to wipe it?”

“Nope.”

“Did you think this through?”  

“Nope.”

“Are you going to stab someone?”

“Probably.”

“I’m honored to be your wing dwarf.”

“Thanks.”

………………..

Lyra and Varric remained hidden in the shadows; there was no rush to draw attention to themselves.  _ Yet. _ Aveline with a few guardsmen stood nearby, vigilant to any sign of unlawful behaviour. Lyra felt more at ease, as she spotted Isabella, leaning back against a stone column, deliberately parading her rack and hips to nearby nobles, who completely ignored anything but her juicy flesh. Henry LeBlanc, an unfortunate spice merchant with a frigid shrew of a wife, was actually drooling on his fine coat. Isabella’s hand traced the full shape of her right breast, and slowly slid down to her hip. The poor guy moaned, earning a pinch from his spouse. Lyra grinned and turned her attention to the speaker. 

First Enchanter Orsino stood high in front of the thick crowd of nobles, his voice steady, the speech well prepared.

“I know you fear us. Knight-Commander Meredith uses that fear to control your city! She opposes every effort to replace Viscount Dumar, and you have seen the chaos of her reign! Will you allow it?!”

Orsino wasn’t granted the time to win the nobles over, as Meredith rushed forward with a small unit of Templars to demonstrate her power.

“Return to your homes, this farce is over.”

Lyra emerged from the shadows and headed straight towards the two bickering rivals, her hands twitching, eager to punch the blasted blond bitch. Orsino spotted her first and jumped for the offered opportunity.  

“Wait, perhaps there are some who might disagree with you, Knight-Commander.”

Meredith turned her gaze towards Lyra, clearly misinterpreting the angry scowl on the Champion’s face. 

With an obnoxiously confident smile, the Knight-Commander declared. “The Champion has proven herself Kirkwall’s greatest defender, I doubt she will support blood mages.” 

Lyra nodded in agreement. “Surprisingly, you’re right about that, Knight-Commander. But I can’t support a tyrant, either. You see, I believe in the ‘innocent until proven guilty’ bit and I would fight all the abominations in the world to save one happy childhood. You’re not fit or entitled to rule Kirkwall. Your measures have become extreme over the years and you’re ignoring the crimes committed by your own charges. You have blood on your hands...”

Meredith scowled, cutting Lyra off.

“And you would do better? How well did you guard your own mother? Did she not die at a bloodmage’s hand?”

The Knight-Captain, who stood behind his Commander looked tense, his jaw rigid, eyes darting from one woman to the other.  _ This won’t end well, Hawke will lose it soon.  _

Lyra froze, a powerful mixture of anger and sorrow paralyzed her.  _ Mother… _

Then the world collapsed around her as Justice boomed from behind her back. “How dare you say such a lie? You will not speak to Hawke further. You will be brought to Justice.” All the nobles backed away from them, fearful silence set in the courtyard. 

Despair and horror filled Lyra’s heart.  _ Why Anders? Why didn’t you stay in the Clinic? My beloved, you have doomed us all.  _ Instinctively she reached for her daggers, not daring to let  Meredith from her sight; she readied to fight to the death. Devoted to her love.

“Kill the abomination!” The Knight-Commander yelled to the Templars, and drew her sword as well. Yet she didn’t get the chance to strike.

A protective wall of high flames encircled Anders and Lyra with a loud swoosh, and a bright voice cut through the air. “You won’t touch him. He’s a Grey Warden, he’s mine to deal with.” 

Meredith tried to glimpse the woman through the dancing flames, but had to wait for a little longer until her eyes finally saw a slender female form in Grey Warden’s finery, her head crowned with a long mane of curly blond hair, bright Fereldan amber eyes shone beneath knitted eyebrows, filled with hostility and determination. 

Behind the curtain of flames Lyra grabbed her husband’s hand, squeezing his slender fingers hard, praying he calmed down and overcame Justice.  

“I’m Callista Surana, Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Call off your Templar dogs and sheath your sword. We can still part in peace.”

Meredith Stannard looked around and realized the crowd of civilians added leverage to her opponents; she couldn’t attack without numerous casualties. Furious, she signaled retreat to her men. Thankfully she overlooked her Knight-Captain, staring at the Warden, frozen on spot, his sword hadn’t left its scabbard.

In the crackling ring of fire, Lyra tried to reach Anders, urge him to fight harder against the possessive Spirit. Icy blue veins ran across Anders’ skin, his eyes cold and piercing, searching for an opening in the flames, his whole body trembling with rage and hatred, the terrible power he wielded buzzing around Lyra. She could feel it dancing on her skin and shivered from its freezing touch, forcing her husband’s name through clattering teeth.

“Anders, beloved, I’m here. Come back to me, please.” Lyra took his face in her palms, and with a wildly fluttering heart forced him to look down into her pleading eyes.  _ Justice, this is not the place, trust me. _

Moment later the powerfield shrinked back, all the icy blue in Anders faded away, and his warm, amber eyes focused on his woman. “Love, I’m…” 

“Hush, we need to wrap this up.” Lyra smiled at him as relief washed over her, they could walk away unharmed and free after all.

Callista, standing in the centre of attention, confident and calm, her brown eyes locked in the Knight-Commander’s harsh blue ones, felt Justice’s magic retreat, and with a flick of her wrist let the flames vanish, leaving only smoke and heated air in its place. A tense silence settled in the square, the first to break it was surprisingly First Enchanter Orsino.

“So, Knight-Commander, will you step aside and let the nobility choose a new leader? As you see your reign only produces chaos and sparks rebellion. Noble men and women, is there someone willing to rule Kirkwall?”

At Orsino’s words the crowd began to murmur, the nobles backing off, shuffling their feet, avoiding eye contact. It was crystal clear no one wanted to volunteer to try and fix this mess. 

Subsequently Orsino began to shrink back, his eyes mirroring bitter defeat. On the other hand, Meredith’s face lit up with a cocksure smile. 

Then as if from great distance, Lyra heard her own loud proclamation. 

“If it can keep the peace, I will step in… certainly can’t do any worse, at least I won’t hunt down, torture and kill innocents …”

Meredith frowned. “That is not going to happen. And don’t accuse me of tyranny. Extreme threats call for extreme measures, every leader knows it. And whose advice will you listen to? Your own pet abomination? I don’t think so, Champion. You did save Kirkwall but you are not fit to rule it.” 

Lyra’s grip on her daggers intensified, her knuckles turning white, she gnashed her teeth, as the fresh memory of the murdered little girl swam before her eyes. Yet there was nothing to be accomplished with violence, especially with Anders’ instability; she must find other ways to overrule the Templars. 

First Enchanter Orsino seemed reluctant to let it go so quickly and with a dramatic gesture turned towards Lyra. 

“Do you see? She’s incapable of reason.”

Lyra studied his face, not sure what to expect from the man. Although he tried very hard to gain at least some basic human rights for his wards, she was far from trusting him.  _ We need more time. _

“This won’t be resolved here, we need to sit down and work it out.” As could be expected, her attempt to end this peacefully wasn’t met with understanding. Meredith sneered, stepping threateningly closer towards them.  

“You’re naive Champion.” The sneer twisted her face into a repulsive grimace. 

Catching the last word, the First Enchanter called out bitterly. “You’ll find that not everyone bows to your will, Knight-Commander!” 

A low, steady female voice carried through the courtyard. The Grand Cleric arrived to the scene. 

“My, my such a terrible commotion.” Elthina slowly approached them, a picture of repose and dignity.

The Knight-Commander rushed forward, eager to report and have her actions justified from the head of the Chantry.

“This mage entices rebellion, Your Grace. I’m dealing with the matter.”  

Elthina, clearly trying to prevent even bigger public show, subtly scolded the First Enchanter and sent him as well as the Knight-Commander back to Gallows. Reluctantly they both took off, only two Templars left behind to ensure the Grand Cleric’s Safety. None other than the Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford stood sentinel on the side of her Holiness. He watched Anders intently, ready to shield Elthina from harm, but his gaze wandered to the slender figure on Hawke’s left, his heart thumping in his chest, he was sure Callista had to hear it. 

Elthina smiled sadly, determined to end this inconvenient display of animosity between the Chantry and the Circle. 

“Thank you for stepping in, Champion. I feel your presence forwent a bloodshed.” She turned to the nobles, who waited in silence for her proclamation. “Gentle people of Kirkwall, go home, this will not be resolved today.” As the crowd began to thin, she again addressed Lyra. 

“Now I must return to the Gallows, they will see reason if the Maker wills it. Thank you again Champion.”

Lyra couldn’t believe the cleric to act so stoically, just an observer to the drama, she alone had the responsibility and hopefully even the power to resolve this dire conflict. So the Champion stepped forward, determined to speak her mind. 

“Do you see the blood on my nose, Your Grace? It should be on your hands, another girl mage tortured and killed for no reason, but that she wanted to say goodbye to her mother. And that’s just the top of the iceberg of abuse and cruelty the mages in Gallows experience everyday from their watchers. They’re locked up for life, a constant threat of Tranquility above their heads, under which they do whatever the Templars ask...”

Elthina stopped the stream of accusations, raising her hand in a silencing gesture. “Do you have any proof or witness for these serious allegations, Champion, or am I just to take your word?”

Lyra realized there would be no other than her companions to back her up, all the witnesses were terrified of the Templars and their long reach. “Surely you must be aware the Knight-Commander is abusing her powers, won’t you investigate further?”

Elthina closed her eyes for a fraction of second, then confirmed Lyra’s misgivings. “All I can do is to guide along the path they have chosen, as Maker wills it. That would be all, Champion. Maker bless you.”

_Coward old crone of a cleric!_ _Well at least we are safe now, free to try and change things…_

Lyra turned towards her husband, feeling a rush of emotions. Relieved Anders was safe against all odds but he shouldn’t have come in the first place. 

“Why didn’t you stay back in the Clinic? You took a great risk coming here to face Meredith all heated up with Orsino’s actions. Not only did you endanger yourself, but all of us. You need to be more careful, Anders… I couldn’t…” 

_ … stand to lose you, you idiot.  _ That bit she didn’t actually say aloud, somehow the leader’s mantle prevented Lyra to drag her personal life into it. Anders looked taken aback with his wife addressing him so coldly.

“Love, I’m sorry you see it like this… I meant no harm, but I needed to be here, this concerns me and Justice above all.”

Lyra wouldn’t drop it so easily. She felt they hit a point where they needed to decide on a certain strategy, how to proceed further in this fight and minimize the threat to Anders’ safety. An impossible job it seemed.

“I think, from now on, you should just leave the politics to me. By all means continue with the dissent and fight dragons by my side… just don’t involve yourself and Justice in the conflict directly. A reasonable request, don’t you think?”

_ Oh damn, I don’t want to be in this position. To dictate, hurt him… I hate this. _

Anders looked at his wife (and boss, apparently) and nodded in agreement. This wasn’t the place to question her decision, he would save it for later, for their home.

It was only then, the pair registered the Knight-Captain approaching them. 

 


	26. Grim Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from Cullen's and Warden's point of view... not a happy one... also no smut... you probably won't read it now, will you? lol
> 
> Song: Andrew Belle - In My Veins
> 
> also I've finally learned how to insert pics (thanks to my amazing editor TurboNerd, I love her), so there's a collage of Cullen and Callista at the end of this chapter... Henry Cavill and Lily James are the true faces of my troubled pair

Cullen felt like crap. The day had gone from bad to worse with every moment. He woke up blissful, he couldn’t remember when was the last time he felt so alive. Shame it didn’t last more than a short, fleeting moment. The Maker couldn’t be more cruel, as he gave him his Tiny Sun back, waking him from his emotional slumber only to rob him of the joy come the dawn. And to his utter disbelief, it had been going downhill ever since. As if the bottom he hit had somehow several deeper layers of darkness and gloom.   

He hoped to sneak back into the barracks with dawn, yet he couldn’t leave his Tiny Sun in such a hurry, not without a proper goodbye, which in their case involved a sweet but shamefully short quickie and his screwed up declaration of love.

 _She said it. He froze. He walked away. Total dick. He came running back. The words somehow rolling from his tongue with ease._ **_I love you._ ** _They kissed. She slapped him. He liked that. And that was it. They parted, most likely never to see each other again. Fuck._

Of course the Knight-Commander noticed his absence and scolded him like a six years old, demanding the reason, why he left in the first place. As if she had the right to know every, no matter how intimate, aspect of his life. Stepping disturbingly close to him, she hissed. “And which whore has earned such honor to be fucked by my very own Knight-Captain? Or boy perhaps? Or one of each?”

Shocked by such inappropriate outburst from his superior, who always treated him with nothing but respect, maybe even favored him amongst others, Cullen stood in silence, tall and unyielding. She could suspend him, torture him, punish him in pretty much every imaginable way, but he wouldn’t ever spill.

Finally, after what seemed like a never-ending tide of insults, the Knight-Commander threw him out of her office, claiming every breath he took offended her gravely.

He was free to find some relief in the solitude of his office, although instead of contemplating his fortuneless, messy situation; the Knight-Captain just took off his gauntlets, sat at the desk and closed his eyes. Unconsciously he reached for his wrist, only to find out the leather strap with the small wooden bead missing. Sad smile curled his lips. _Lis has the bead in the valley between her perfect breasts._

Cullen fumbled in his pocket until his fingers closed around the earing she gave him in exchange. He put the simple circlet on his pinkie and played with the bijou dark blue stones dangling from it. The images from last night flashed in front of his eyes. Her sincere smile with the cute little gap in between her front teeth. Warm amber eyes looking up at him with such adoration that his heart fluttered madly in his chest. Her divine scent, smooth skin and delicate elven ears… her long lustrous curls tickling his abs as she kissed her way down to his dick...  

_Maker help me. I can still go after her…_

And as if being kicked by the stool, the Knight-Captain jumped to his feet and started to take off his Templar armor. No plan, no safety, no clear future. But he was determined to try. Follow his heart. For once.

Loud banging on the door caught him off guard, he spun around to face the intruder. He considered not answering the door, pretend he wasn’t there, but that could not work for long. “Come in.” The annoyance in his voice could easily intimidate all of his charges.  

Ian, the fresh, promising recruit with rather large ears, peeked behind the door, biting his lips, swallowing hard.

“Eeh, Knight-Captain… Ser, the Knight-Commander sent me for you. She ordered us to accompany her to Hightown. She’s already waiting at the gates.” When Cullen didn’t react, only stood there, tense with his breast plate in hand, the lad cleared his throat. “Can I be of assistance and help you to put your armor on?”

Cullen looked at  the innocent face, there was no way he could escape then. He could easily get rid of Ian, lock him in his office perhaps, but with the Commander at the gates, there was no way out. In fact the longer he stood there, the more he realized the absurdity of his plan. Where would they go? A Templar deserter and a mage Grey Warden Commander, in hiding, always on the move, battling his lyrium addiction… not to mention the order needed him, now more than ever, with the Knight-Commander threading on thin ice, the mages only a step from an open rebellion. _He had a duty, a task of much greater importance than his heart’s desire._  

So he gestured to Ian, and for the second time that day, donned his Templar armor. Somehow, it felt heavier and colder than before. He finished, bent and weighed down with not only his mail, but also misery and sorrow. Pulling on his gauntlets, Cullen realized, that Lis’ earring was still around his pinkie, as if it belonged there. Maybe it did.

Callista

A short moment after Cullen disappeared in the morning light, Callista shuddered to wake up from the hollow trance. She needed to go, make, talk… anything but sit there behind empty walls. She should probably replenish their supplies, maybe buy something pretty and useless, check on Zev at the Hanged Man and then say goodbye to Andy, Hawke… Kirkwall, half of her heart and probably her ovaries as well.

She donned the Grey Warden finery, it never hurt to wear it at the market. The savior of Ferelden got more discounts and politeness than an elven mage could have ever dreamed of. Though so far from her homeland, in a place barely affected by the Blight, it might count for nothing. _Let’s find out._

The morning she walked into was bright, the crisp air cleared her troubled mind. Half of the merchants had already unpacked their goods, chatting merrily, such a nice day promised decent revenues. As soon as she stopped to browse over some well made subtle gloves; one could never ever have too many gloves; and bluntly spilled her identity, the trader was intrigued. The woman presented the finest of her stock, offering a special deal and even refreshments. The news traveled quickly, everyone at the market was hungry for such a rare customer, though she noticed a few sour faces as well. But Callista was used to Shems looking down at her even after the Blight.

She smiled, listening to the rapidly increasing buzz of the market, after the ominous, thick silence of the Deeproads, she cherished any sound of ordinary life. The Warden Commander loved the attention, although was far from boasting and taking all the credit for herself. She knew without the party of her devouts and even the mage bitchy bitch, she would have failed at the very beginning. Nevertheless a few admiring looks and grateful smiles were precisely what she needed. A balm to her hurting soul. A much needed distraction. So she chatted with them, painted vividly the Archdemon’s defeat, praised their goods, purchased a few things, all the while trying subtly to spy out on the Templars. One could never ever have enough sources.

Callista, trying to deepen her knowledge talked with a well experienced herbalist, and once again checked the whole market square for any threats or interesting events. She spied a servant making a beeline towards a group of nobles, whispering urgently into his master’s ear. Literally buzzing with excitement they all spurred in the direction of the Viscount Keep, if she recalled correctly from Hawke’s very brief tour around Hightown on the previous day. _Surely, it won’t hurt to follow..._     

In front of the Viscount Keep

Arriving to the gates of Gallows, the young recruit in tow, the Knight-Captain was relieved to find his Commander treating him in appropriate formal manner. He could deal with the extra coldness in her demeanor, as long as she acted civil.

Now he stood behind her at the base of the monumental stairs leading towards the Viscount’s Keep, rooted to the spot, quite sure such mess could only be an especially vivid nightmare.   

First Enchanter Orsino made a grave mistake, there was no way the Commander would even consider some of his demands, after the mage had chosen to accuse her publically of abusing her powers. Reluctantly Cullen had to admit to himself, that some of her methods might have done more harm than good, but he alone couldn’t come up with any decent plan to secure the safety of mages and subsequently all Kirkwall’s citizens against the omnipresent demons.   

Of course the Champion arrived, she didn’t miss any significant event these days, always in the centre of attention, her opinion valued amongst the nobility and common people alike. Cullen listened to Hawke’s speech, not at all surprised by her defense of the mages, as she alone had two apostates in her closest circle. Anders, the Pompous Prick, for one.

The accusations exchange became more heated, both women devoted to their agenda, he doubted this could end in truce. Than the Commander made a rather uncalled for move and slipped into personal insults, reminding Hawke of her mother’s violent death.

“And you would do better? How well did you guard your own mother? Did she not die at a bloodmage’s hand?”

Cullen tensed even more, his jaw rigid, eyes darting from one woman to the other. _This won’t end well, Hawke will lose it soon._

And then he saw Anders approaching. Not Anders himself but a strange creature in Anders’ body, radiating cold light through his skin, piercing blue eyes challenging the Commander, his voice so unnatural, booming loud all over the place.

“How dare you say such a lie? You will not speak to Hawke further. You will be brought to Justice.” All the nobles backed away from them, fearful silence set in the courtyard. _How… what… oh Maker preserve us! DEMON!_

Everything seemed like in slow motion, Cullen heard his own heavy breathing, the images of present situation and his memories of the torture he withstood in the Kinloch Hold mixed, with every second it was more difficult to stay focused on the concurrence. His skin tingled, the whole body became agitated, heart thumping madly in his chest, feeling as if it would soon crash against the cold metal of his Templar breastplate. He didn’t even comprehend Knight-Commander’s order to strike the Abomination down. The Abomination with such a horribly familiar face.

A woman rushed in, conjuring such a mighty wall of flames around Anders and Hawke, they all stood in awe, the terrible power of her magic unmatched by any mage known by the Templars. Cullen flinched with shock as Callista’s bright, but unusually trenchant voice cut through the air. “You won’t touch him. He’s a Grey Warden, he’s mine to deal with.”

He hadn’t ever seen her in all the Grey Warden’s finery, her head crowned with a long mane of curly blond hair, bright Fereldan amber eyes shone beneath knitted eyebrows, filled with hostility and determination. His love radiated such strength, Cullen alone felt queasy and feared to look her in the eye.    

“I’m Callista Surana, Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Call off your Templar dogs and sheath your sword. We can still part in peace, Knight-Commander.”

_Oh Maker! She’s defending the Abomination! How could she? If my brother were possessed I would strike him down, it would break my heart to do so, yet I wouldn’t hesitate._

Cullen knew the two mages were close in the Circle, Callista alone told him, she considered Anders her brother. _But surely she must see, how dangerous he has become!_

What should he do? Oppose her, make an attempt to kill Anders despite her standing guard to him? Or should he run to his Tiny Sun and defend her against the Knight-Commander? Against his peers? Against his own beliefs?

Thankfully, his torment was cut short by the Knight-Commander’s own retreat. The flame wall vanished, and to Cullen’s relief Anders was no longer glowing, though his face looked haggard and he was shaking slightly. _He’s still dangerous, he can’t walk out of here!_

Clearly First Enchanter Orsino didn’t share Cullen’s concern, blind to the possessed mage, as he pressed on with his agenda, determined to strip the Knight-Commander of any political power.      

When Hawke collected herself, stepped in and offered to fill in the seat of the Viscount, surprised murmur ran through the crowd, and Cullen shot the Champion an quizzical look. She hadn’t ever strike him as power hungry. Yes, she meddled in some city conflicts, eventually saved everyone’s ass by killing the Arishok in single combat, but her ways were more subtle. He knew she even went against authorities more often than not. But Cullen saw the motive behind such a seemingly noble offer. The rogue wanted to protect her apostates, the elf and Anders, who should be made Tranquil or even killed right here, before the demon used him as a vessel for its horrid crimes.

The Knight-Commander, First Enchanter and the Champion continued to bicker, no solution in sight. Hawke called upon them to move the argument elsewhere, clearly trying to buy more time for her apostate. To let him disappear into the shadows of Darktown. That, Cullen couldn’t allow.

Inevitably, the Grand Cleric arrived, her peaceful dignity shaming both opposing sides. By nothing but a miracle she managed to put an end to the argument and sent both rivals back to the Gallows. Thankfully.

On her departure the Knight-Commander nodded to him, darted her eyes in the direction of her Holiness. The Knight-Captain and his fellow patrol officer were left in charge.  _And they will do their duty._

To Cullen’s surprise, Hawke did not attempt to flee into safety with her Abomination. Instead she dared to accuse the head of the Chantry from neglecting her duties, some made-up story of a mage girl’s murder to back up her case. The Grand Cleric denied all and drew a line, which even Hawke did not push against, as she clearly lacked reliable witnesses and credible proof. Relief washed over the Knight-Captain, as her Holiness left for the Chantry, with his remaining backup in toe.

Cullen waited till the pair was out of any possible attack range, raised voices of Hawke and Anders in the background. They were clearly arguing about something, Anders sounded defensive, Hawke rather bossy. Now came the time to face the inevitable, he had to do his duty.   

He approached them warily, scanning their surroundings. Almost all of the nobles heeded the Grand Cleric’s request and left, only two little groups remained in the distance, undoubtedly discussing politics. The City Guard left as well, their Captain clearly didn’t want to get her hands dirty, or maybe she just intended to give Hawke the opportunity to resolve things in her own way. She and Aveline Vallen were close friends after all. An odd movement caught his eye, he had a feeling of someone watching him from the shadows, but there was no time to investigate.

Cullen focused on the remaining three troublemakers in front of him. Plus his love. And Anders the Abomination.

Champion’s faithful companions, the dwarf Varric and the sharp pirate wench stood further away, a highly efficient backup. Hawke and Anders side by side, clearly when threatened, the pair forgot all of their disputes and acted in perfect harmony. Wary, ready, focused. And his Tiny Sun, standing next to Anders, her staff ready. Cullen didn’t dare to look her in the face. Or he would certainly forget his sacred duty. _Steady. Be steady. Keep it civil._

“Anders, you have a demon inside of you. I haven’t seen such a weird scheme, when you’re not entirely consumed and transformed, but nevertheless you’re a danger. An Abomination. I simply can’t let you go free. I… well, Warden Commander, he’s indeed your responsibility, what’s your judgement?” Mustering all his courage, he searched for Callista’s eyes, and found them. Honeyed, harsh and hurt.

“There’s no judgement. Anders let a Spirit inside him, a pure Spirit of Justice, trapped in this world. They have an agenda, a mission. And my support.” Lis’ tone was icy, her body language hostile.

“Your support? You’re supporting an Abomination? After all you have been fighting against?” Cullen couldn’t believe how dimwitted she was. Blinded with her emotions!

He winced as Callista yelled on top of her lungs, her eyes narrowed into spiteful slits.  “Stop calling him an Abomination! Just because he’s something you can’t understand! You’re a Templar! How could you possibly get this!”

_Surely, this has still to be a nightmare! Why do they need to stand on the opposite sides of the barricades? Do they both not care for everybody’s safety? Wake up!_

Despite all the despair and confusion in his head, Cullen maintained decorum, his voice cold and sharp. He loomed over her, his Tiny Sun didn’t move, she stood her ground, breathing heavily, heart rate elevated, cheeks all flushed from the emotional ride.  

He looked down in her beautiful face. “I’m trained to deal with such.”

Callista closed her eyes for a fraction, took a deep breath, but nothing could clear her head from the rage and frustration, that was ruling both her mind and body. So she yelled in his face again.

“You’re trained to eliminate! Without any insight or even attempt to understand! Hawke, take Anders and go, this is my fight. Andy, don’t argue.”

“I’m not going.” _Of course he’s not. Idiot._

Cullen knew the time has come. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat and proclaimed with what one could even call a steady, commanding voice. “The Rite of Tranquility needs to be performed as soon as possible, for everyone’s sake! Surely you don’t want to endanger your friends, Anders?! I’ll escort you to the Gallows.”

Now Callista shrieked terribly, causing everybody to jump a little. “Hawke! Drag Andy away! Now!”

In any other case, Lyra would be the one to argue, yell and possibly even attack, but she was shaken to her core, a vivid picture of Anders with the Tranquil Sun burning on his forehead, his once warm, passionate, loving eyes empty, his expression placid, he wouldn’t recognize her… _Fuck no!_

The Champion could only whisper. “Anders, please…”

She sensed her husband was overwhelmed with the same vision, and she seized the opportunity, grabbed his hand and dragged him away. He followed as if in a trance, stopped only once, for a brief moment. Lyra sensed Justice surfacing, but thankfully her man braced himself against the Spirit and remained in control of his body. For the moment. Looking over her shoulder she saw Varric and Bella following and scanning their surroundings, vigilant and ready to fight. Anders hand twitched, a spider web of shimmering blue veins covered it.... _they were not safe yet._

The Knight-Captain needed to act fast, the situation seemed out of hand as the Abomination almost vanished behind one of the large estates. Determined to pursue, he moved in their direction but Lis stepped in his way. Cullen hissed in surprise, because out of nowhere a slender blond elf appeared, with drawn daggers, and automatically shifted to her left, to the side she wasn’t protecting with her staff. The Templar tried his best to ignore him, don’t let the sting of jealousy ruined his task.    

“Lis, I beg you, let me do my duty, or…” His hand made an attempt to touch her on its own accord, but dropped back down to his side almost immediately.  

Callista, boosted by Zevran’s reassuring presence at her side, rounded on the man she loved like no other. “Or what? You’ll smite me? Strike me down?”

Cullen froze, even backed a step away, as if he would like nothing better, but to run from this. _Oh Maker, could I? Strike HER?_

Callista watched him, struggling to hide the regret of each of her sharp words. She saw a hurt lion in front of her, torn between pursue his prey and slink away in safety to lick his wounds. The lion stayed, his pain seeping through his amber eyes and soft words. “No. I wouldn’t harm you. Lis.”

She knew, she knew, and she wanted nothing else but to caress his cheek and place a soft reassuring kiss on his lips. But the line was drawn and there was no turning back. _He’s a Templar, I’m a mage. It’s over._

She armored herself with all the power her titul held.

“Then we’re done here. Anders is safe, and don’t you dare hunt him after I’m gone. He belongs to Grey Wardens, you have no authority over him. Come on Zev, we will leave the Knight-Captain to get the message to his superior. Time to get back on the road.”

The blond rogue elf measured Cullen with sharp eyes, then sheathed his daggers and placed his hand around Callista’s slender waist. “Si, my Warden, it’s time to leave.”

They turned and walked side by side away from Cullen. Callista entwined her arm around her friend’s waist as well, or her weak knees would surely gave away, and she would fall to the ground, crawl back to Cullen and collapse at his feet. She couldn’t remember when she had ever felt so tired, every spark of her life energy snitched away from her. _Hollow, old and small… But still she had to struggle, not for herself but for those she had agreed to lead._

The Knight-Captain stood rooted to the ground, the weight of his armor multiplied to the point of unbearability, he simply couldn’t move. _It had to be a nightmare, I had to wake up soon!_

He found her. His first and only love, this sunny girl, for whom he dared to break the rules. Despite every horrible accusation and insult he threw at her the night she freed Kinloch Hold, Lis had forgiven him. It would be enough to put his troubled conscience to rest finally, and he would he immensely grateful for her pardon. But the dream didn’t end there. Lis understood, Lis cared, Lis loved. _Him._

Earlier in the morning they exchanged tokens and parted with a kiss. _Lovers._

Now she walked away, cold, harsh and angry, she challenged his integrity, tested his beliefs, shook his very core. Heavy drops started to thump on his armor. His Tiny Sun left him and there could be no more fitting proof, than the pouring rain.

 


	27. The Champion of Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow Anders gets his nose broken and Lyra walks in heavy rain lol
> 
> Soundtrack:  
> I Don't Deserve You - Plumb  
> Brian Crain - Rain
> 
> I'm in eternal debt to the amazing TurboNerd, go check her work  
> And as always I welcome any feedback!!! Seriously, they made my day....

.........................................................

Somehow, they made it home. A miracle, given Justice’s struggle to gain control of Anders’ body to storm back and blow up Cullen into a thousand bloody pieces. Lyra practically dragged her husband all the way to the estate; he was preoccupied with his internal fight, and likely to collide with a nearby wall or roll down the stone stairs.

………………..

“Fuck, shit, bloody feather from my ass... Justice and you, fool of a man! Why oh why couldn’t I have married a farmer or I don’t know; nug hunter?” Lyra muttered to herself, though loud enough for Anders to hear her. At this point she didn’t care who was listening. Varric and Bella were busy bees, covering their own retreat, so she alone had to move Anders’ glowing butt to the safety.

The tight grip on the healer’s hand sent spasms into her forearm, yet she couldn’t let go of her husband. Every few steps he stopped in his tracks and froze; even stumbled forward likely to crash to the ground, as Justice made a fresh attempt to get them all killed. Icy blue veins appeared on his skin, only to vanish in an instant.

_He’s a fucking human firefly!_

Half the way to the estate Justice managed to hold the reins for a longer while, as the unfortunate result, Anders wrestled from her iron clutches and broke into a run. _Fuck, he’s fast!_

Flinching in advance, realizing the inevitable pain she would inflict on her beloved, Lyra chose the only possible way to save their pathetic lives; and tripped him from behind. Being unlike himself, Anders couldn’t act on reflex, hit the cobblestones hard and broke his nose.

“Ha! Worth it!” Lyra yelled triumphantly as her husband stopped glowing blue and groaned in his normal voice. Confused, he scrambled back to his feet, leaned on her heavily and swatted his healing hand over the bleeding nose.

“No time for that! Move!” Lyra yelled again, snatched his hand away, and renewed her crushing grip on it. Spattering blood and hurling either Anderfels or demonic curses, Anders followed suit, his mind befundled.

……………….

Varric and Isabella, having successfully covered the couple’s retreat, vanished the instant the estate came in view, offering the spouses a chance to process the latest crisis in privacy.

Once the heavy front door banged shut behind the two lovers, they both slid down to the floor with their backs against the solid wood, washing the adrenalin away with deep breaths. Anders healed his nose; he lost track of how many times it had been broken already. He began to feel better immediately, being in their safe harbor filled with happy memories and soft echoes, where Lyra’s spirit and perfume lingered. This was Anders’ domain; Justice did not have a say within these walls.

“Well, this sucks. If Lis didn’t go all mighty Grey-Wardeny, we would have grilled the Blond Bitch within her own impenetrable armor. Next time, I’ll double check for foolish friends, and Templars will be without their insane leader at last.”

Lyra couldn’t believe her ears.

“Next time?”

“Well yeah, we’ve come to the conclusion, that the death of a Templar or Chantry authority is the only way to shift the power balance…”

Lyra raised her eyebrows. “We?”

“Justice and me.” Anders swallowed the ‘obviously’; that would have irked her more. He focused on making their case.

“Lyra, I can’t carry on like this… letting them abuse and kill the innocent and defenceless. With the leader gone, they would become vulnerable, and we might even break in and free Bethany and the rest. The mages will surely help from within.” Voicing his plan out loud, Anders started to believe it in earnest, itching to set things into motion. _Justice, the time has come!_

His wife gaped at him; with her right hand she fisted the front of his robes and tugged, while the nails of her left dug painfully in his bicep. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You can’t go near the Gallows or anywhere public from now on! They’ll seize you and make you… Tranquil! Despite the Grey Warden thing… And don’t play the Bethany card, that’s blackmail!”

Despite her determination to solve this without ending in shameful tears, her eyes began to water. She hated this. This feeling of her life being threatened by the very person who gave it purpose and joy. By the recklessness he treated his own existence. Anders let her in, let her care and love him, he crept under her very skin.

“How can you expect me to understand and bless your self-destructive mission? I'm your wife, I need you alive!”

Anders smiled, and addressed her in steady and a bit patronizing voice, as if calming down a stubborn child. “Love, don’t worry. Justice is strong enough to kill Templars.”

Lyra sputtered. _Foolish, foolish man._

“Don’t worry? You think I’ll let Justice loose? You can’t control him, this could only end with you chopped into pieces! Or worse! I just... can’t… back there, when Cullen made his request to take you to the Gallows to do that... _thing_ ... I pictured you with the brand on your forehead, looking at me without really seeing me… and **I couldn’t fucking move!!!** ”

Lyra’s heart thumped in her ears loudly, her lower lip quivered. She closed her eyes to gain a little composure, but there he was, burned in the back of her eyelids with the Chantry’s Sun emblazoned on his forehead, detached, his beautiful eyes vacant… _Fuck this, now I’m crying!_  

“Love…” Anders cupped her cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb. _Do I really have to hurt the one I love? I need to shield her, I need to keep her away from this… but Maker knows, I tried to keep my distance, but failed again and again… Weichling!*_

He tried to hug her, to cradle her stressed body, soothe her fluttering heart with his own steady beating. Lyra pulled away, the sour tang curling her mouth into a bitter grin.       

“Don’t. I can’t do this now. Don’t push it, Anders.” His wife stood up, naturally he followed suit, trying to lock her gaze. Soft, sorrowful amber eyes connected with harsh green ones. _She's angry and suffering… a wounded cat._

“I’m sorry you’re hurting, love.” What could he do? She refused his loving arms, no matter how he ached to hold her.  

Instead she folded her own on her chest and sticked out her chin in an offensive stance. “Then don’t hurt me, maybe? Don’t endanger your life like you have nothing more to live for… as if you have noone bound to you… as if you don’t have me! I approve of your mission, I do, yet you can’t just presume I would agree upon any insane means to achieve your goal… maybe…” Lyra bit hard on her lip, gathering courage.  “Maybe this is the moment, when you have to chose. Justice and your mission or me.”  

Anders gaped at his wife. “Love, that’s not… I can’t... I would drown us in blood to keep you safe. But I and Justice, we have a purpose, and…” Anders felt silent, froze in front of Lyra, not willing to believe his love, his woman would ask him the unspeakable. With a deep breath he swallowed the compunctions, which would be surging out of his mouth. _You swore to love me, to be here for me, until the day I die. You swore to be mine. And more, you claimed to had accepted me and Justice, to support our cause. And now you’re making me choose between you and my very essence? How could you, love?_

Anders closed his eyes for a fraction, trying to suppress the quickly building frustration. Lyra backed away, she needed to stop this before they both dealt blows that couldn’t be healed…

“I’ve told you I don’t want to get into this now. I could use a drink.”

“Sure, go grab a bottle from your nightstand, dresser, library or ten thousand other places you have hidden your _emergency_ stashes.” Anders blurted out, immediately regretting the loss of control and the uncalled for petty attack, the shock of her previous request still resonating in his head.  

Lyra’s eyes narrowed into venomous, green slits, only fitting to match her hiss. Anders had always treated her with nothing but kindness, such a mean remark triggered her prickly nature. “You’re calling me a drunk? A coward?”

Anders ran his hand along his forehead in a nervous gesture, trying in vain to pull back the always present loose strands of hair. The rush of energy he felt earlier washed away, and was replaced by burdensome weight on his shoulders. He sighed. “No. But I want to talk like adults and you’re being a child. A child that drinks too much.”

“I’m being a child? Who behaves with no self-preservation instinct, like a toddler running to pet a huge, growling cougar!? I’m telling you again, I won’t get into this right now! I’m going back to check on Lis. Then for a ride. I have to clear my head. Could you just... stay here and wait for me? I need you to…”  

Lyra ended in a peaceful tone, despite the tumult of emotions filling her mind to the brim.

_I want air, sea and wind in my hair, the sound of hooves and waves crashing filling my head. I need to empty my mind of this mess._

Anders nodded, knowing better than to argue; he needed to sort out his thoughts as well, not to mention address Justice’s angry snarls in the back of his mind. They all could use a little solitude. Surely Lis handled Cullen Fucking Rutherford and is safe out there.

So he stayed. For Lyra, for them, he stayed. They needed to talk. No matter the pain it might bring.

……………….

Lyra walked quickly, as if to outrun the thoughts she didn’t want to deal with. She welcomed the pouring rain, hidden under a thick leather coat, the hood overshadowing her careworn face. People in the streets were sparse, no one noticed their Champion sneaking out as a whipped dog. Cautiously, she approached the place of the cursed gathering, seeing only the Knight-Captain;, standing motionless, letting the water drench his uncovered curly hair, traveling down his ash-white face. The aura of strength and faith he always radiated, gone; it seemed nothing was left, but a broken warrior. Yet Lyra couldn’t be sure of his intentions towards her and Anders, therefore she approached him warily, ready to dodge an armed attack and counter strike swiftly.

“Knight-Captain?”

Cullen’s amber eyes focused slowly, she must have disturbed him. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and rubbed the back of his neck. He was frozen in this position for far too long, muscles stiff and sore, a perfect match to his hurting soul. His voice sounded flat and resigned.  

“Hawke. Haven’t you done enough damage? You and your abomination?”

Lyra’s nostrils widened, and she growled through her gritted teeth.

“This is my dear one, you’re talking about! Don’t you ever dare call him that again, do you understand?!”

“As you wish, Serah.” Cullen nodded, there was no need to fight over this, Anders was the abomination, a simple fact. Hawke was in denial, blinded by her feelings. _She will see sooner or later._

Far from being reassured, Lyra pressed the matter further. She needed to secure Anders’ safety, she prayed Cullen had some compassion and free will left, even after all those years serving under a paranoid tyrant. “And do remember he’s a Grey Warden and answers directly to the Warden Commander herself. Speaking of which, where is Callista?”

Irked by the blunt question, the Knight-Captain wanted nothing else but yell at the noble in front of him, to blame her for the torment of his past day. Hawke was the reason why he and Callista reunited, only to be painfully parted again, as their duties inevitably clashed. They were opposite parts of the eternal conflict, destined to be enemies. Not lovers. Their night together was just a cruel illusion. Yet he maintained decorum, the Knight-Captain couldn’t lose his dignified and detached appearance.  

“An elven rogue came and they left together. I don’t know where.”

Against all odds, Lyra felt sorry for Cullen; the thick metal armor was hiding a hurting man. Her kind nature urged her to ease his pain. “He’s been her companion from the very beginning of the Blight, a faithful friend.”

Cullen didn’t let her in. “It’s none of my business. She’s gone and that’s it.” Almost against his will, the Knight-Captain honored his decent upbringing. “I should thank you for your hospitality the other night, I assure you I did nothing to threaten the safety of your home. I’m in your debt.”

Lyra lifted her eyebrow, emphasizing every single word. “Which you can best repay by leaving Anders alone, Knight-Captain.”

Cullen almost stepped back from the determined rogue, but his rank didn’t let him. “You put me in a difficult position, Champion. You request I abandon my duty, and defy the principles I believe in.” Lyra’s eyes widened with caution, he seemed taller and stronger, his will empowered by his unwavering faith. Yet the petite woman didn’t budge. _The stakes are fucking high._

“Anders is only defending the innocents. He is no threat to you.” She dared to jab her forefinger into his breastplate.

Cullen looked down at it, taken aback by such a bold gesture. They froze, oblivious to the heavy rain, shaken by the tense moment. Waiting for the other to act first.

Despite the cool and wet metal, Lyra felt her index growing warmer, creeping with unpleasant jitters.

Cullen cleared his throat, taken aback by his own irrational decision. It could cost him, but there was a part of him that felt indebted to Lyra, and wouldn't allow him to arrest the mage; Callista's best friend and Hawke's companion. Not yet. He voiced it very carefully, wanted to be sure, Hawke understood the conditions.      

“I guess we can agree, that as long as he doesn’t hurt anyone, I’ll leave him be.”

Yet Lyra needed more. “And if the Knight-Commander orders you to hunt him down? Would you warn us?”

“If there were no victims to his magic, then you have my word, Champion.”

Lyra noded. That was all she needed to hear. She stepped away, ready to leave for the stables and her much needed stress relief. Two hours of blissful denial, she could pretend to be but a little girl, oblivious to the mess that is her love life. Then Cullen’s call forced her to stop in track and open the can of worms.  

“What’s your role in this?” He asked a seemingly simple question.

_What’s my role in this? Am I just trying to protect my husband’s life or am I fighting for the cause?_

Yes, she wanted Anders, Bethany, Merrill and all the decent mages to be free, but she never took an extra step. She provided provisions, useful contacts, fought by his side, yet she was only Anders’ helper. Nothing more. All of the sudden, the image of the little girl from this morning swam before her eyes, all the blood, bruises and breaks… the terrible stillness of her tiny chest. _She only wanted to say goodbye to her mum._

And Lyra knew. She would do anything to spare the kid. She would sacrifice herself. How could she deny Anders the same right? The right of choice? The right of freedom? Justice…

Lyra Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall faced the Knight-Captain and stated firmly, head held high.         

“I’m the Champion of Justice. Justice will be enthroned. Justice is my husband and I would do anything for him.” Leaving a shocked Templar behind, Lyra ran towards her home, hoping, praying her man would be forgiving.

………………..

Anders was restless, walking around the house, picking up random things, flipping through books, lighting and snuffing out the candles with a flick of his wrist. Justice was constantly shouting in his head, urging him to go after her, force her to cooperate. The Spirit valued Lyra. Anders loved Lyra. And Lyra needed space.

Looking back at the clash with the Templar Bitch, Anders had to admit, it might have been too much to digest for his wife. He understood she feared for him, he would have done the same, he would shield her from harm at all costs. But this was not a simple dragon battle; Anders had a purpose which could be only achieved by being willing to accept that he could lose everything again. He thought Lyra knew this, yet in the heat of the moment she acted like a selfish lover, caring only for his life, not their mission.

The deep voice of Justice resonated in his head once again.

_You need to ensure, she won’t intervene against us. You need to have her full support. She could be our Champion of Justice._

Anders’ heartbeat pummeled to the stars. _Is this what I want for her?_

His legs carried him up the stairs where he sat on the banister, one leg dangling down into the open space of the grand parlor below, the other leg bent at the knee, his foot resting on the banister with an elbow on his knee cap.

He took in their home, the intimacy of the bedroom, squinted at the distant bed, a shadow on the pillow could easily have been Lyra’s tousled hair.

_If only we could live here alone. Just the two of us._

_………….._

Lyra reached the estate, her hood fall back as she ran, the heavy rain left not a single hair or fibre dry. The coat weighted her shoulders down, even her socks felt damp. Panting, she leaned her back against the front door, trying to calm down. A futile attempt; it wasn’t the run that had set her heart racing. It was the fucked up situation caused by her own hot head.

A deep breath, in and out.

…………..

Anders stared blankly on a cat shaped dark patch on the wall.

_Did its ear twitch? Is it walking towards me?_

A soft padding sound pulled him out of the foggy haze, he looked down, and his heart melted by the sight. His wife was standing in front of the fireplace, dripping wet. The dancing flames casted fleeing soft shadows on her face, the warm glow adding color to her pale cheeks. Lyra looked up, locked her eyes in his and Anders let out an impatient groan, a complaint to the distance between them. He hopped from the bannister and ran down the stairs. Instead of sweeping his love of her feet and swirl her with grace, he tripped on the carpet and fall on his woman. They both ended up on the floor, in a tangle of limbs, hurting all over from the impact. Anders on top of Lyra, reacted fast to her coughing, sat up and lifted her to him. She couldn’t catch her breath, eyes all watery, clutching her chest. The healer hit his rogue hard in the back with an open palm, and Lyra’s chest lifted, air filling her lungs again.

Taking few deep breaths rather rashly, she coughed again, trying to spill out her heart in between the barks.    

“I’m… so sorry... I shouldn’t give you... ultimatums.”

Anders pulled her petite frame into his chest, ignoring the cold, damp clothes. “Shh my love, I know it’s hard for you, I would try to shield you from harm at all costs as well. But you have to understand, there are two things with more value than my life to me. Your safety and freedom for mages. As much as I love you, Justice and I, we have a mission…” His warm eyes brimmed with passion, plea and pity. Anders prayed for her to understand the intensity of his feelings and the dilemma he faced. Lyra smiled, her eyes lit.

“I was such a bitch to you. I don’t deserve you.”

Her man pressed his index finger to her lips; this kind of talk made him uneasy, reminded him of his own unworthiness. Lyra dared to lick his finger in an attempt to break the tension and mumbled against it.

“Don’t worry, I understand now. I won’t drag you from a fight ever again. I might jump in front of you to catch the lethal blow, but I won’t interfere with your mission. Our mission. I told Cullen, I’m the blighted Champion of Justice! I’ll fight for the mages as you do.”

The vivid memory of the poor beaten up girl swam before her eyes yet again, she could actually smell and taste the mixture of blood and lyrium on her tongue. Shaking her head to get rid of the dreadful image, she smiled for her man.

“I believe some official ceremony is in order? A kiss at least?”

Anders stared at her with eyes open wide, unconsciously holding his breath. What cruel coincidence was this? If he didn’t know better, he would have thought Justice somehow planted the idea in her head. _The Champion of Justice..._ _Lyra will remain safe. I will keep her safe._

When her husband didn’t move, his expression impossible to read, Lyra nudged him in the shoulder. “Beloved? A kiss?”

Anders flinched, took few seconds to catch up to the present, then smiled down at his wife. Ever so gently, he cupped her cheek in his warm palm and ran his thumb along her lips, retracing the full contours, feeling their softness.

 _I need to drown in her._      

With a passionate groan Anders claimed her lips, wasting no time on gently probing the waters. Instead his tongue found it’s way to taste and caress every nook and curve of her mouth, meeting hers already busy with reciprocating. Without breaking the kiss he straightened up, taking Lyra with him, then when standing, he pulled her so close into his frame he felt her wet clothes through his own shirt.

“Bed, now…” Pulling away just to voice a husky whisper, Anders sucked on her lower lip and grabbed Lyra’s buttocks to grind her against his erection. Finally he could scoop her in his arms in one fluid motion and carried her up the stairs into their sanctuary.    

 ** _I will keep her safe._**     

 

     

Note:

 _*Weichling! =_ Wuss!

 

 


	28. Anders' Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the whole thing - SMUT... beware... a bit kinky... ;)
> 
> pls let me know, what you think
> 
>  
> 
> Soundtrack: Imagine Dragons - Believer  
> thanks to my beta TurboNerd

Reaching their bedroom, Anders let Lyra down, lit the fire with merely a thought and started to remove her wet clothes. Which proved to be way more difficult as his woman continued to wrap herself around him tightly, craving for intimacy. Lyra found his lips and Anders wasn’t able to break their kiss, so instead of pulling the shirt over her head, he tore it open and moaned blissfully as his fingers found the smooth skin of his wife’s abdomen. He encircled her slender waist, and ran his long fingers up and down her spine, altering between featherlight touches and more urgent strokes. She hummed and wriggled, leaning into his touch like a wistful cat.

Anders grabbed Lyra’s butt and lifted her slightly, taking great pleasure in her immediate leg lock around his waist and carried his treasure to their bed. He lowered her on the sheets, broke the kiss only to free his lips for more exploring, tracing her jaw all the way to her earlobe, taking it in between his teeth and nibbling on it teasingly. His warm and heavy breath resonated in Lyra’s head and she synchronized hers, their hearts beat together in an excited rhythm. Anders continued the journey, his lips opened slightly to let his tongue taste and caress Lyra’s skin, the tip of his nose followed suit, he needed to breathe her in; the divine scent of his woman.

The side of her white neck, the outline of her collarbone, where the soft skin was so thin and delicate, all for him to worship. He made an enticing stop in the cozy valley of Lyra’s breasts, his lips and nose moving only an inch up and down, with a cocky smile dancing on his lips he waited for any sign of impatience on her side. His wife could be teased only so far, and surely enough it took only a few seconds before Lyra grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled with urgency in the direction of her right nipple.

Anders obliged and took it into the warmth of his mouth, sucking and circling his tongue around, just with the right intensity he learned long ago. His left hand found the other dark pink peak and his woman hummed and melted with pleasure. Slowly he make his way to the other breast, mindful to keep his ministering just. His left traced the scar in the middle of her belly, the one he failed to heal after the battle with the Arishok, a reminder of his debt to his Champion. Eager to please, he unlaced her pants, dragged his lips down to Lyra’s lower belly and kneeled in between her legs.

In one fluid motion the rogue was naked, entirely on display for her husband. On a sudden impulse Lyra opened her heavy eyes and met Anders’ intense gaze. The look amazed her, so much love, truth and devotion in their amber depths, her heart fluttered madly in response.

The ‘I love you’ rolled off her tongue with ease, more a statement than a confession. Anders smiled, the small wrinkles around his eyes and mouth cringed endearingly, he kissed her belly button gently and mumbled his three words back, while tickling her inner thighs, dragging his hands up and lips down, until they met in her very centre. Lyra invited him in, moaning and biting her lower lip as his tongue finally brushed against her clit, licking and kissing all her secret, sensitive spots.

Lyra laced her fingers in his long lustrous hair, gently pulling when he hit the right buttons and sent her entire body on vibrate. When he slowly entered her with his index and middle finger, she hissed and arched her back, gripping the sheets. Anders shifted on his knees a bit, his pants had become so tight, the pain of a constricted erection distracted him from his task. In a flash he freed himself, exhaling with relief on Lyra’s clit. He began to dip his fingers inch by inch into Lyra’s warmth and soft core, making his way to a certain spot, that would set her on fire. Once, twice he brushed it, earning Lyra’s hoarse appreciation, and for the third time he let his magic slip, a tiny spark escaped to the tip of his index and Lyra screamed, her inner walls spasming, she shook and panted, her throat dry, barely able to voice her praise.

Through a drunken smile she beckoned to him with her index finger. “Anders… come to me.” Her man obeyed and crawled over her, pinning her down to the mattress, the most welcomed burden of all.

“How do you want me, husband?” Lyra cooed, ready to give him whatever the blighted Void he asked for. Anders’ eyes twinkled, he wouldn’t let this generous offer go wasted.

“I would like to be entirely yours.”

A puzzled look lasted just a second and Lyra’s face lit up in understanding. With a catlike grace she rolled them over, straddling his lower belly so Anders’ dick was touching her ass, she leaned to the nightstand and grabbed a few things from the upper drawer. A moment later Anders was swallowed in darkness with a soft scarf she tied around his head, and his hands were bound together with what could only be the silk rope Bella had given them for their wedding present.

A sensual whisper warmed his earlobe. “You won’t make a sound unless I say so, understood?”

The ill-judged and thrilled ‘yes’ cost him. A whip landed on the outer side of his upper thigh, and he bit his lips not to scream from the bittersweet pain it left behind. Not able to use his sight, other senses sharpened, the anticipation of her next move left him ecstatic, goosebumps covered his arms and chest in eager response. She was still straddling him just inch above his dick, which was left with no other contact than the occasional grazing in between her buttcheeks. Anders bit his tongue hard, feeling her sweet juices moisturising his hair and skin, he wasn’t sure how much longer, before he begged her to take him in.

Lyra set her lips on a teasing journey, kissing the side of his neck and slowly getting lower, flicking the tip of her tongue against his sensitive skin and using her teeth for little bites in the most titillating places. She paid a special attention to his nipples, sucking and biting delicately, her hair now long enough to tickle his chest as the finest silk. She moved lower and pushed his pants down to his knees. Anders wasn’t able to spread his legs, no matter how desperately he wanted to. But then her lips closed around his cock, she sucked hard and licked it with enthusiasm, with just the right amount of pressure, his heavy breath synchronized with the generous strokes of her tongue.

Even blinded, Anders could see the devilish grin on her face, as his mistress cooed against the tip of his dick, her warm breath dancing on the hypersensitive skin. “You can’t come until I say so, clear?”

“Yeaaah.”

“Yeaaah, what boy?”

“Yeaaah my... Champion?”

Another lavish lick from the base to the tip of his already tingling dick was the desired confirmation, that he chose the right titul. Now and then he forgot his hands were tied up and made an attempt to entwine them in her hair, or reach to fondle her shoulders. The lack of control he alone asked for was a source of bittersweet pain, that escalated his longing, his need to devour his woman, caress and worship every part of her to the point they both would lose themselves in each other. The attention Lyra paid to him was almost unbearable, she held his hips down, and moved in a steady rhythm, sucking hard every time her lips closed around his exposed glans. He tried to breathe through the fever, to no effect. When tiny white stars appeared on the back of his eyelids, he knew there would be punishment.

“Love, too much, I can’t take it…” He whispered with urgency and a second after winced as the whip landed once again on his upper thigh. The sting it left behind was traced with soft, caring lips, Lyra’s kissing balm. Then all the touches stopped, and Anders laid on the bed, exposed, aroused and awaiting her next move with growing suspense, biting hard on his lower lip. _Please Andraste, Creators, Archdemon, whoever… let me fuck her!_

His pleas answered, he moaned loud as Lyra lowered herself and took him fully in, the soft warm wetness of her pussy broke down any control he might had over his body’s responses. She grabbed his hair and pulled hard, forcing his head to follow, flinging back to expose his throat. In between kisses and bites, Lyra hiss reached his ears. She scolded him for the sound, that he let escape earlier, making sure the bites would leave their marks. Yet still she didn’t move, just straddling his hips, denying his dick the bloody friction it longed for. Her lips hovered over his, only an inch from the reach; she eluded the kiss on purpose, surely aware of the sweet torment, she caused. Her whisper danced on the curved contour of Anders’ upper lip.

“What do you want, boy?”

Boy’s voice failed him, only on the second attempt he managed to utter hoarsely. “You… My Champion riding me as hard as you can.” In answer Lyra finally closed the gap and kissed him. Her tongue busy against his, confident and hungry for more, she kissed him hard, barely allowing him to reciprocate her ministrations.

Slowly and with a longing moan she left his lips and straightened up. Then all the demons broke loose, as she begun to ride him. Slow at first but the rhythm built up quickly, and Anders once again had to disobey her order and begged for a break, pretty sure he would explode otherwise. Lyra indeed stopped abruptly, moved up, whispered in his ear. “Bad boy.” Her tongue traced its outline and she bit on his earlobe hard, the sharp pain brightened his senses to other feelings than the torturing tension in his cock.   

He heard the adorable smile in her voice. “What do you want now, boy?”

“I want to touch you.”

Lyra bend forward, and moved in fluid motion, sliding along his chest, skin on skin, her nipples pert and Anders suppressed a moan, yearning to take those tantalizing tits into his mouth. The temptress sucked on the thin skin at the pulse point just below his ear and a wave of excitement washed over Anders along with her answer. “You can’t touch me boy, but you can watch me.” The blindfold was gone.

 _Illuminated._ He was illuminated. The monotonous darkness fled, intimidated by his wife’s splendour. Anders felt such a rush of joy, as if they had been apart for days. Surprised that Lyra remained in her role and didn’t burst into a laughing fit upon eye contact, he took in her every feature. With his warm amber eyes he followed the perfect contours of her heart-shaped face, the high-held, stubborn chin, her white shoulders and perfect breasts, the zigzag scar across the firm belly, till finally his eyes rested on her sex, her clit peeking from between her parted lips, calling for attention. Anders’ fingers twitched, he longed to touch the tiny spot of lust, and send another spark from the tip of his index finger.

Seeing his hungry, intense gaze, Lyra’s lips curled in a grin. “Watch me, boy.” Anders obeyed, his sweat-covered chest heaving with deep breaths he deliberately took to calm his beating heart. His Champion put her middle finger in her mouth, and treated it as his cock earlier, sucking and licking with gusto. He felt her inner walls tightened and loosened in short intervals, using her inner muscles to tease him; she didn’t need to move at all to drive him crazy. Anders unconsciously closed his eyes for a fraction and a strangled hiss rolled of his tongue.

“Look at me, boy!” She took his lower lip in between her thumb and index and squeezed the soft flesh hard. She raised her eyebrow in a smug gesture, satisfied with the sharp breath Anders took in response to the pain.

So he observed his woman once again licking her middle finger lavishly and placing in on her aroused clit. Lyra moaned in bliss and began to ride him while pleasuring herself in the same rhythm. Up and down, in and out, Anders’ chest started to burn with laborious breathing, his eyes opened wide to take in every bit of the beautiful image. His woman with flushed cheeks, biting her lip, her perky breasts bouncing; she placed her palm with widespread fingers over one, and pressed, moaning loudly, her self restraint forgotten. Lyra  quickened the pace, racing towards her peak and Anders felt the familiar tension in his balls, and he would gladly accept any punishment if she allowed him to come with her. _Please my love, be merciful now…_

Lyra read his mind, she must have, because in between her heavy breaths, she answered his unspoken plea. “Come… come...with me...”

Anders exhaled in relief, and let all the intense, tantalizing sensations overflow his mind and body. His hands were still tied up, yet his memory granted him the feeling of Lyra’s smooth skin beneath his fingers. He could taste the salty sweat in between her breasts, or was it his own, licked from his upper lip?

The blissful warmth and tightness of her pussy engulfing his throbbing dick felt so so so good, decadent and carnal; this was his nourishment, his drug, his _salvation_. He closed his eyes, listening to Lyra’s crescendo moans, she began to spasm all around his appreciative cock and Anders saw sparks on the backs of his eyelids, lifting his pelvis as high as he could, to meet her, to get as deep as possible, to merge with his love; to be one.

As one, the two lovers breathed in the same moment a hoarse “I love you”.    

 

link to their pic collage... cos of some mysterious reasons I can't insert the pic in high resolution :(((

<http://nymeriajon.deviantart.com/art/Collage-Anders-Salvation-687665390>   

             

   

   

        

 

                


	29. Hawke's Wine Cellar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke wants to contribute to Anders' fight for mages.... oh plus some vanilla smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: From Eden - Hozier  
> It doesn't really go with this chapter, but I love the music, and vibe of it, plus Katie McGrath my Lyra Hawke faceclaim stars in the video... so enjoy  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cI0wUoCLnLk 
> 
> A note to my dear readers: Please folks, if you happen to like it, hate it, if it makes you giggle... be so kind and take a minute to comment, I LOVE feedback! 
> 
> As always, a huge thank you goes to my beta TurboNerd, go check her Zev/fem Warden amazing stories  
> \-----------------------------------

In the late afternoon Lyra Hawke hopped down the stairs, leaving her bedroom after the intense love games with her husband. They had planned to go to the Hanged Man, as the Hero was waiting for them.

She smiled at the dwarven merchant, who just entered from the hallway, barely visible behind numerous boxes he and Sandal both carried from the outside. “What’s in them, Bodahn? Let me guess… enchantment?”

Sandal answered in his father’s stead, nodding vigorously, repeating ‘enchantment’ in a bright, innocent voice. Lyra loved the boy, his presence let her forget some of the worries constantly buzzing in her head. She helped them with the rest of the cargo, thanking Bodahn for a lovely leather belt he gave her. 

“Serah, I’m sorry we have been traveling so often these days, but the trade here in Kirkwall isn’t as blooming as it was a while ago. People are afraid to sell or buy certain ingredients and goods, they fear the Knight-Commander might find it suspicious and accuse them of blood magic or something. So we need to travel around to get the goods you need.”

Lyra nodded, this was to be expected. “I’m sorry for the trouble, my friend. Anything else I could do beside stop losing my socks every other day?”

Bodahn looked embarrassed. “No, no I wasn’t complaining, Serah! I just wanted to explain our absence! What merchant would I be if I complained about the time spent on the road?”

Lyra smiled for the two dear dwarves and turned back, shouting in the direction of her bedroom. 

“Hey husband, move your gorgeous ass! We need to go see your Warden Commander!” 

“Coming! I was just admiring the purple marks on my neck! Your teeth seem to be in excellent shape!”

Lyra giggled, winked mischievously at the blushing merchant and yelled in response. “Oh do shut up, you enjoyed the biting! Now heal it!”

Anders descended the stairs to the parlor at last, stopped in front of his wife and pinched her cute nose. “I don’t wanna, I look like a badass.”

“Oh you wish. Stop fooling around, we need to go.”

Anders ruffled her hair playfully, and Lyra swatted his hand, faking displeasure. “Oh no!!! You’ve ruined my thoroughbred looks.”

“You wish! You have your sex hairstyle still.” Anders ruffled her hair a bit more, he loved their height difference, and all the teasing opportunities it provided him with. Leaving Lyra to her futile attempts to tame the unruly locks already reaching her shoulders, cursing him adorably under her breath, his eyes wandered freely around the room.

“Oh good day to you, Bodahn, I hadn’t seen you behind all the gifts, you’ve brought me!” If the merchant looked self-conscious before, he was pretty much speechless after this. Lyra elbowed Anders in the stomach and assured Bodahn, her fool of a husband was just joking. They both turned to leave when she noticed two scrolls on the mantlepiece, bearing hers and Anders’ name in neat handwriting.

Lyra handed one to Anders and started reading the other, addressed to herself.

_ Hawke, _

_ I really wanted to say goodbye in person, but I simply can’t stay in Kirkwall for another hour. Judging by the sounds coming from your bedroom, you got Anders under your command and I don’t dare to disturb you. I’m the last person to judge your relationship, I just have to warn you.  _

_ Beware of Justice. Andy is not in control of his actions, and the Spirit I once knew as pure and just, turned into something corrupted and dangerous. I would try to help my brother, but I have a crucial mission to complete, one that could save many from a terrible fate. I’ll do what I can to hurry, though I can’t foresee the time it will take.  _

_ Thank you for your hospitality, I honestly didn’t count on finding such a true friend here in the City of Chains.  _

_ With good intentions you have meddled in my personal life, and you gave me the one thing I longed for. Don’t feel bad for me, only a naive dumdum would think a mage and Templar could be together. Thinking about it with a cold head, I can’t blame Cullen for his hatred towards the mages. He acts out of fear, based on his own horrible experience from the Calenhad Tower.  _

_ I’m sorry to say so, but Kirkwall seems unhealthy, my dear, it’s full of poor, starving souls and it stinks of fear. It’s on the brink of an explosion, I would say. Be wary, my friend! _

__ __ _ Yours,  _

_ Lis _

_ PS: Get Andy a cat, it might calm him down a bit. _

_ PPS: Try to feed him more, he looks too skinny, Grey Wardens have unmatched appetite for both food and pleasure, I’m sure you’ve already noticed.   _

_ PPPS: Say goodbye to Bodahn and Sandal for me, I hope to hear Sandal’s ‘Enchantment’ again soon. _

With a sad smile and painful sting for Lis’ opinion on Justice and their whole situation, Lyra folded the parchment and watched Anders reading his farewell letter. From the deep wrinkle in between his eyebrows and slightly squinted eyes she could say he was upset with the hasty departure of his dear friend. She knew better than to ask him about Lis’ final words, clearly the Warden Commander intended to address them separately, leave each one a personal message. 

_ Andy, _

_ I’m sorry I left without a proper goodbye hug and butt spank, but I need to focus entirely on the task afore me. If I do succeed you’ll have a true life as well. But we need to find a way to separate you from Justice first. Your situation is so different from Wynne’s, it seems corrupt and vile to me. It’s probably the Taint in your blood. Please be careful, try to block Justice, when your emotions are high. You know I had great sympathy for him, but this is not the pure Spirit I once considered my friend. The Justice I knew would never block you out, seize control for himself. You could have achieved great things working in harmony, alas he’s not willing.   _

_ Your wife, (who would have thought you might fish one, heh?) is an adorable, clever woman, and she’s devoted to you. Try to listen to her and don’t keep things to yourself. Be true to each other. There might be no tomorrow. _

_ I don’t want to reveal too much in a letter, just believe me, if I could I would stay and help you with your fight.  _

_ I know there can’t ever be peace between you and Cullen, just try not to kill him. For me. Despite all the blighted shit that happened. There’s no black and white, it’s all various shades of grey, tangled and linked together.  _

_ Justice is harsh, does not come easily and it’s accompanied by pain, guilt and sorrow. I’ve learned, that you can’t ever predict all the possible outcomes and consequences of your actions. You can only do your best. So do your best to be true to your heart, you don’t need to be just all the time. Try to be a bit selfish, seek pleasure and joy, whenever and wherever you can. _

_ Don’t you worry about me, I have Zev to back me up and flirt with me all day. He’s way more than eye candy. He’s a killer. And loyal to the bone.   _

__ _ Love, _ _  
_ __ _ Pumpkin _

_ PS: I promise to get back and bring the most overpriced silk ribbon for your ponytail.  _

_ PPS: Also, what happened to your earring? You traded it for cat food, didn’t you?  _

With a sigh, Anders tossed his letter to the hearth, flicked his wrist and set the parchment on fire. 

“I thought she would stay for a bit. Fuck the Wardens and their blighted agenda. Well, I think I’ll head to the clinic then, love. Anna can’t run it on her own all the time. She lacks my magic fingers.”

Lyra swallowed the pinch of jealousy in her guts at all the time he spent at the clinic away from her, and smiled for him. “I’ll help. What task will you give your Champion? Maybe it’s time for me to meet your underground dissent contacts.”

Anders tried his best to ignore Justice’s pleased hum.  _ Yes, get her involved, she cares, she’s capable, she’s crucial to our success...  _

Practiced in concealing his true feelings, Anders smiled at his wife. “Not today, love, I really need to catch up on my cases. I promise to involve you soon. Maybe you could get me more elfroot and deep mushroom? My supplies are thinning quickly.”

“Fine, I’ll do that. But don’t you try to keep me away, or I’ll find my own way to fight Meredith. I’m thinking of sending her Red Wind’s horseshit for starters.”

……………………..

A week later…

The Champion stood in her vast wine-cellar in her undershirt  and worn-out leather pants, completely drenched with sweat and covered in dust, a few cobwebs in her hair. She looked around proudly. 

_ Surely, he will love it. _

Lyra didn’t dare to ask anyone for help, the fewer people knew, the better. She made sure Bodahn, Sandal and Orana were away for the whole day. Thus, it was all her work. Teeth grinding, grunting and swearing loudly, she labored all day, moved the barrels and flasks to other storage places, a few particularly exquisite bottles relocated to her bedroom, already looking towards the evening to taste some. Only the enormous cask was left in the center, but it was nearly empty anyway, so she refiled it with pure water. That way it could have more uses. 

She did her best to remove cobwebs, swept and scrubbed the floors. The spacious room was clean, smelled of lavender soap and wood. Five cots stood on the floor with fine blankets and soft pillows waiting for tired bodies, offering the peaceful sleep they must had lacked for Maker only knew how long. She placed a rag doll and little wooden horse on one, mindful of the tragic fate of the little mage girl they failed to save. 

Four sturdy, iron fire-baskets were packed with logs, splinters and crumbled parchment, she hoped the two small high placed windows would be enough to take the smoke away. Thankfully they led to her private backyard, so no suspicious eyes would be able to notice. Five big lanterns bathed the room in cosy, soft light, one in the middle of a table for six, surrounded with polished, hardwood chairs inviting guests to a proper meal. 

She filled five chests with a generous supply of candles, parchment, ink, more blankets, both male and female modest, everyday clothes, towels, bandages; apples, dried fruits and strips of smoked meat and crackers. A mish-matched set of dishes and cutlery was stacked on a shelf above. Two washing bowls on simple, wooden crates and a water jug were hidden from view behind an ornament canvas screen.  

Lyra hung two old and somewhat dull paintings of flowers and fruit, and a horse tapestry to break apart the grey and harsh stone walls, brighten the place as much as possible. She smiled at Dog, lolling at her feet on the fine woollen carpet, that had decorated her parlor only a while ago. As had the comfy sofa she crashed on, her limbs heavy and back hurting from all the hard work. 

She closed her eyes, yet before she could drift to the well-deserved nap, the sharp creak of the cellar door startled her. Anders was ascending the crooked stairs leading from his clinic, humming a familiar tune, letting the words rolled off his tongue in a pleasant, low-key voice.

“So honey now

Take me into your loving arms

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

Place your head on my beating heart…”

He became to a halt at the last step, frowning at the parchment he was reading. Lyra straightened up, biting her lip in giddy anticipation, eager to introduce her brilliant plan. The healer didn’t notice her, apparently revising his precious Manifesto once again, the elegant tip of his nose almost touching the parchment.

A mischievous grin lit up Lyra’s face and she called. “Hey, pretty boy! Reading a naughty pamphlet, are we?” 

Anders straightened his neck rather rashly, and hissed as his head met the low jamb with a hollow sound. Holding his healing hand above the throbbing skull, his amber eyes located Lyra and locked hers in a feigned scolding glare. “Are you here for the wine or that huge rat in the corner, kitten?” 

“Neither. And that’s not a rat, but a teddy bear, Ser. Now please be welcomed to the Hawke’s Happy Hideaway. May I give you a private tour?”             

“A private… oh love, what have you done?” Anders looked around, took in the room and felt defeated.  _ She meant it, she’s stubborn, she won’t stop. I might as well let her be involved, otherwise she’ll find a way on her own behind my back. _

“This is mine, well ours, new hiding place for apostates on the run. They’ll be safe here until your contacts find a way to smuggle them out of the city. I have supplies and will continue to provide them. With caution, no one will suspect us. The darkest place is under the candlestick, right?”

“Hmm… Cullen might have a special candlestick, you know...” Contrary to his lighthearted remark, the worry lines on Anders’ forehead spoke volumes. 

“Anders, lose the frown, I can see the angry vein pulsing on your temple. I have it all covered. Bodahn, Sandal and Orana will respect that cellar is off limits without further questions, and no-one can possibly find the passage from your clinic, your contact’s net has proven loyal through all these years, they won’t betray us… I can only curse myself for not doing this sooner.” She rose from the sofa, fidgeted with the hem of her shirt and searched his eyes, waiting for any reaction. “Dragon for your thoughts?”

Anders didn’t reply, but paced across the room, peering into boxes, coming to a halt a few times, staring at some random object blankly, messing his dark, blond hair with long, slender fingers. “I still don’t like the idea of you getting involved so much, but this could really help a lot. Thank you, love...  Where did you move the substantial supply of liquid grapes, one might wonder?” The frown and worry lines disappeared, his face lit up with a grateful smile. 

Lyra beamed back at him, relieved he accepted her help. “Well, I moved it, the finest into our bedroom, my Antivan brandy was feeling lonely. And one can never ever have enough poison next to their beds.” 

Anders chuckled, crossed the few paces to her, wrapped Lyra in his arms, kissed her forehead and buried his nose in her hair. 

The Champion melted into his chest, his familiar smell and body heat sent blissful, warm waves into her tired body, she forgot to warn him of the dust, sweat and cobwebs, that covered her petite frame. She remembered the very next moment, when Anders sneezed all over the top of her head. 

“AH-CHOO… we should probably get you a bath, love… T-CHOO!” 

“We should. And we should get you a monogrammed handkerchief. Stop wiping your nose into my well-kept hair, man!”

…………………………..

They both dared to indulge into the luxury of Lyra’s big, copper bathtub, filled with steamy water, that Anders warmed up with merely a thought. 

“Have I told you, how much I love having you in the house, husband? Warm baths, warm dinners, warm bed…” 

The tub big enough to fit them both, Anders sat with his back propped against the warm, smooth metal, his chin rested on the top of Lyra’s head in the raven black hair, washed-up and snots free. His love rested against his chest, he could stay like this forever. _ Though I should do something about my twitching dick and rather sooner than later...  _

Lyra smiled to herself, feeling his growing erection pressing against her lower back. Of course there was no way both of them would endure sharing a bath without getting aroused. “Something is growing on me, I wonder what should I do?”

“You should relax and close your eyes…” Anders’ voice alone awoke lust and need in every fibre of her being, there was no room for coherent thoughts in her head, there was only Anders. His voice, body heat, balmy scent, smooth skin, warmth breath teasing the side of her neck, well defined chest and abs supporting her back; long, track and field legs she was resting in between… and Maker, he began to touch her and she was HIS, trusting and devout, clay in his hands. 

And Anders worked her, shaped her, sculpted her, paying attention to every curve and nook he could reach from behind. He traced her battle scars, the reminders of his wife’s care and love for others.  _ For him.  _

Anders froze for a moment, realizing it could have been him, adding the final remediless scar to her body… he breathed through the fear, that clutched his chest…  _ I would drown us in blood to keep you safe…  _ his heart calmed down, he fought off the looming panic attack. Everything was alright for the moment and there might be no tomorrow. 

“Love?” He whispered in his woman’s ear, waking Lyra from a blissful trance.

“Hmmm…” Lyra had difficulty to focus on something else than the caressing hands running all over her breasts and sensitive belly.

Anders pinched her pert nipple teasingly, “Could you stand up, nipples to me, please?”

Lyra giggled and rose, facing her man. She wasn’t cold, yet she shivered. Anders looked up to her. The amber eyes. Intense, so intense. Taking her in. He feasted on her. Hungry, ravenous. 

The healer didn’t need to look to see, as he had her image printed in memory. Yet he inspected the rogue in front of him, marveling at the petite frame, firm, toned muscles beneath delicate skin, the catlike grace present in her slightest move… he greeted every freckle with a soft smile and acknowledge the scars with a mixture of sorrow and pride.

Lyra’s breathing became heavy, she could hear the strong beats of her heart, caught up in the intimate moment, with childlike eagerness she drunk in every line, twitch and smile in Ander’s face, as he roamed her body, and she felt elated, unique, loved.

Anders finally met her sight again, and she gasped beneath the heaviness and earnestness of her man’s emotions mirroring in his amber eyes. Love. Respect. Honesty. Devotion.

Acting on the most primal of her needs, never breaking their bond, she lowered herself back into the water, across Ander’s lap, entwined her fingers in his hair with forearms resting on his shoulders and inch by inch took him in. Ever so slowly, breathing deeply, Lyra’s senses sharpened, she was wide awake, her body responding to her husband entering her, deeper and deeper, until he filled her whole, both body and mind. Anders hugged her slender waist with one hand and cupped her cheek with the other, tracing the contours of his woman’s face with his slender fingers, circled the outline of her full lips with his thumb, and moaned when Lyra took it in her warm mouth, suckled and bit it hungrily. 

She started to move up and down in a slow rhythm, stopping once in awhile for a kiss. Lips teasing, brushing against each other, tongues probing, licking, tasting the sweetness, the honey.

A whisper escaped. “Love?”

A silky murmur answered. “Yes, beloved?”

“If this is a dream, please don’t ever wake me.”

“I won’t, I promise. Let’s dream together.”

The bathroom was filled with steam, heavy breathing, echoes of lovers’ moans and soft splashes of water. The built up before the storm. Strong waves of bliss hit them hard, they rode them, one by one, gripping tight to each other, feasting on one another’s exquisite pleasure. 

Their wild heartbeats slowly calming, their foreheads rested against each other, fingers running through black and dark blond hair, the lovers felt blessed, at peace. 

……………………...     

“Beloved?”

“Hmmm…” Anders purred, completely under Lyra’s spell, as she gently washed his hair with fragrant soap, he loved the caring touches, the intimacy of the moment, it sent shivers down his spine.

His Champion knew she could ask for anything and he would give it to her without second thought. “I have been thinking… Meredith is watching over the markets with eagle eye now, Varric warned me not to buy anything even remotely smelling of magic or buying food and other stuff in amounts I can’t possibly have use for… she’s also monitoring the import, so it has become difficult to smuggle things in as well. That means I need a cover for all the extra food and other supplies I’ve been distributing to the poor, and supplying your clinic with. Not to mention I will need even more for the apostates soon to be in my cellar. No one would believe it to be an innocent deed of charity, suspicion would arise sooner or later. But no need to panic, I have a solid plan. I will throw a dinner party for the nobility of Kirkwall every week, to have an excuse for my large purchases. As bonus I’ll win them over with my charming personality, gain more influence and valuable information… What do you think?”

Anders sighed softly, they were back in reality, in their never-ending fight. “You got some balls woman, planning to invite the noisy, noble pricks in our home, full of my Manifestos and very possibly a number of apostates in the cellar. Not to mention the bronto in the room, your Grey Warden mage slash Spirit husband. And don’t use that “the darkest place is under the candlestick” bit again, my feather-headed Champion.”

“Silly man, they won’t ever suspect me of anything if I just let them in, shove good food down their throats and entertain them. I’ll have them wrapped around my finger in no time.” She started washing away the soap, smiling to herself when she heard her man humming in pleasure, unable to ignore the blissful effects of her loving attention.

Anders smiled against his better judgement. “I don’t doubt you, love. You’re a natural at wrapping people around your pretty much anything.” 

 

 

 

 


	30. Magic Balls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is such a mess... just read it :)  
> Feedback is most welcome!!!  
> Oh and I couldn't resist to make two more pics collages... so you've been warned lol  
> .................................

Sitting on a cot in a cosy room that used to be her wine cellar, Lyra stretched her back with a loud ‘meow’, just to amuse the twelve year old girl she was teaching how to sew. There was only so much magic one could do. Grace giggled and called the twenty something youngster to show him her work. “See Aran, I did this on my own! Now I can mend our clothes, maybe even make new ones!”

“Very pretty, Gracie, but remember to pull the needle out so I don’t end up jabbed to death.” The mage turned to Lyra and she noticed the worry behind his blue eyes. “Thank you Messere, you are so kind to us, how can I ever repay you?”

“Just stay safe and stick together. Has Anders taught you where to find healing herbs and consumable berries, showed you the passage through Vimmark Mountains?”

“Yes he had, I’m memorizing them every night before sleep.”

“Good, now I’ll teach you how to lay traps for rabbits and nugs, kill and skin them. They don’t grow on trees, you know. Plus, one needs to get a bit bloody to truly appreciate the wilderness, right?”

The kid looked ready to vomit from the prospect of killing and skinning anything bigger than a fly, but that was exactly why he needed such a lesson.

“Can’t I just hit them with a lightning bolt?”

“Well, smarty breeches, unless you prefer your meat scorched black, then no, you can’t. You might freeze them, I guess, but still, best to avoid the use of magic either way.”  

Aran nodded it agreement and took a deep breath to suppress the nausea that hit his guts as he looked at the cage with three squeaking, pink creatures. Yet, when the Champion patted his shoulder, he lifted his chin, straightened his shoulders, and took the knife in a steady hand.

When they took in the first apostates, Lyra and Anders realized how unprepared the mages were for freedom. Mostly hidden in their family houses all of their lives, or locked in a Circle, they lacked the necessary survival skills. So it was up to the Champion and her healer to teach them, how to hide in the wilderness and don’t perish in just a few days.

After a week of day and night drill, they smuggled the first pair out of Kirkwall in a wagon hidden under a second false bottom. They were supposed to head for Tevinter, stay off the main roads as much as possible. Lyra gave them money, fine, warm clothes and hoped they would find their way to the only place they would be safe against the Rite. They couldn’t possibly send them back to their families, the first place the Templars would turn upside down, and some might not have been welcomed there, either.

……………………

The healer was tired. So tired, every step hurt. It seemed even his blonde ponytail was too tired to keep its nonchalant look. Crazy clinic day. He tiptoed through the cellar, careful not to wake the innocent souls and rob them of much needed, peaceful sleep. At last his fingers found the door handle and he shuffled into Lyra’s parlor, enveloped in velvety, quiet darkness. He had no need to bother himself with conjuring light, he knew the path to their bedroom by heart. At least Anders thought, he did.    

“Ouch, blighted, fade bitches!” His cry got lost in a loud crack, as something huge hit the floor tiles and shattered into thousand pieces, leaving him standing in a puddle of fragrant liquid. He healed the bruised toe and was about to cast some lightning orbs to see the mess, when a scream from above made him chuckle.

“You better hope it’s not the vase I think it is, because then I would use your balls as salt shakers.”

About a hundred of small sparkling orbs was casted and bathed the spacious room in soft, golden light. “Come on, woman, you love my magic balls more than I do.”

His woman descended the stairs in a slow, catlike strutt, dressed only in his own old shift, stood enticingly close and cupped his balls in her right hand. “True.”

Anders lifted his eyebrow. “And?”   

Lyra mimicked his teasing glare, while fondling his crotch. “And I love them best in my mouth, you dirty tomcat.”

“Dirty? Love, I’m not the one who likes to lick and kiss my testicles.”

“That’s only because you can’t reach them!”

“True. So before I let you lick them in my stead, what’s all this fancy brick-a-brack?” He gestured towards all the furniture and decorations that were new to him, while stepping gingerly away from the broken glass.

The parlor looked magnificent. Every surface polished to shine, the fragrance of beeswax hung sweetly in the air, brand new candle holders sparkled in the glimmer of his lightning orbs, dozens of tall, purely white candles ready to be lit, new, luxurious, wool rugs with complicated patterns, two soft, red velvet upholstered sofas with pitch black cushions embroidered with the Hawke family crest, and to Anders’ delight, the scales of justice and the healer’s snake entwined staff carving, standing next to the fireplace on brass pedestals. _Nice touch, love._

Slender, mahogany side tables waited to be burdened with glasses filled with heavy, rich, red wine to the brim, and also to offer a fine selection of cheeses and fruits. He sent few orbs into the library and saw a dark, robust table with carved chairs around, glittering silverware, crystal glasses and snowy white napkins, more candles and tall vases calling for expensive bouquets, which no doubt would bathe the whole room in a sweet fragrance for the upcoming dinner party. Such a feast would be remembered for months.

“Suddenly I wish to be a noble prick to be allowed in this frivolity.”

They both crouched to the floor and cleaned up the mess. Lyra felt a sting of guilt; she would have very much preferred to have her husband by her side all the time, to show Kirkwall she was taken, loved and happy. Not a weird, rich and dominant spinster some nobles took her for. Anders sensed her discomfort and leaned forward to kiss her nose. “Have you, perchance, gotten a new dress for the occasion?”

“Yes I have. Wanna see? Give your balls something to remember me by?”

Lyra didn’t wait for his answer and ran back upstairs, only to reappear a few moments later in a burgundy red gown with bare arms and shoulders, the whole dress secured only by a thin corner sewed to a golden collar around her neck. There were more golden jewels around her slender waist, yet their glimmer was wasted on Anders, who stared transfixed on his wife’s delicate neck, elegant shoulders and especially the smooth fabric over her breasts. No breastband. The bouncy movement of her perky bosom indeed made an impression on his balls and dick. He gulped and cooed.

 

 

“Love, you are stunning. Radiant. Gorgeous cat. My cat.” Suddenly the awe and admiration that set his heart racing got a bitter taste; once again, Anders realized he couldn’t be there standing by her side, his hand possessively resting on her waist the entire evening as he would swell with pride, let all the Kirkwall know that this magnificent woman chose him above all the wealthy nobles, even princes.  

He released a warm rejuvenate spell to wash away the heaviness in his limbs and the darkness in his mind. _She’s yours tonight._

“Would the Champion of my heart delight me with a dance?”

Anders’ graceful bow and extended hand sent a light blush into Lyra’s cheeks.

“It would be my honour, beloved.”

They began to dance to a soft tune Anders hummed in low register, but the healer maintained a very formal posture, pretending they were indeed the stars of a party, dozens of envious eyes on them, jealous of the love and devotion he and Lyra personified. His shimmering orbs were floating around them, casting soft shadows and adding more sparkle to the already luminous, green eyes of his woman. Luminous eyes that looked up to him.

Lyra respected the game and didn’t try to slip into his personal space. Yet somehow this was more tantalizing than if she had melted into his body. Anders held her hand lightly, as if afraid it might break, his other palm on the small of her back, feeling her spine and back muscles moving to the dance. Her thin, fine gown felt pleasant to his fingers, its smooth surface almost matching the delicacy of her bare skin. _She would never be mine, not truly, not in this blighted world._

“Husband, you look as if someone stole your kittens.”

“Well in a manner of speaking, yes. The mess I call my life denies me all the kittens I would love to kiss and snuggle… I’m sorry I can’t be there tomorrow, love.”

Despite the shared regret Lyra’s lips widened in the brightest smile to cheer up her man. “I promise to save you the good food.”

“And sweets?”

“And so much sweets it will make your teeth hurt.”

The dark cloud above Anders’ head lifted; his wife’s charm was irresistible. Once again his eyes slid over the provocative bodice of her gown and the breasts shaping clearly beneath it.

“Where did you get this dick-magnet piece of garment anyway?”

“I made it.”

“You? The tragic cook and messy housekeeper?”

“Yes, me! I used to sit down with Beth for hours, to keep her entertained when it was to dangerous for her to be outside. So we sewed or embroidered to keep our fingers busy while chatting, gossiping, making fun of Carver or evaluating the boys we knew. We became quite good at the needlework and were even able to make some money. Rich’s mum was a seamstress and she passed some of her commissions to us.”

“Rich?”

“Richard. Carver’s friend.”

“And?” Anders wiggled his eyebrows, waiting for her to confirm the obvious. The blush blooming on her cheekbones told him everything.

“And?” Lyra clearly didn’t feel the urge to share with her man.

“And… your first?”

“How the...Yes.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Why?” Lyra frowned. _Why dig in the past? The past she worked so hard to lock away._

Yet Anders was suddenly determined to get his answers. He and Lyra lived in the moment, rather than shared their history, but the conversation made him hungry for details of his wife’s previous love life. “Well you know about my first girl and Carl, so you owe me some juicy stories from your past… and I’m curious, did you break his heart?”

“Well, if you insist…” Lyra chewed her lip, unsure where to begin. “He was a skilled smith with his heart in the right place, yet he was a bit of a troublemaker, Carver always in tow, he looked up to him. We bumped into each other now and then, I wasn’t even sure Rich knew my name. Yet one day he defended me from Carver’s stupid rant, not that I really needed saving in the first place… I teased my little quick-tempered bro about a girl he was drooling over and he started yelling and calling me names… and Rich told him to fuck off...”

“And then you fucked?” Anders wiggled his eyebrows, teasing her further. “Sorry I couldn’t let this one pass…”

“About a month later.”

“I see. You cared for each other. What was he like? Tall and handsome? Dreamed to be a warrior while mucking horse shit?”

“You know, I really don’t want to fodder your smug confidence.”

“So he was small with floppy ears.”

“He was _handsome_. Almost as tall as you, toned muscles, brown hair, blue eyes. He was a fighter. A rebel. Very cocky. A good kisser. Attentive lover. Had a few girls already, so there was no awkward fumbling on his side. He was a man of few words, but he didn’t need them anyway. We loved the thrill of doing it everywhere else but the usual barn or distant glade. The Chantry was our favorite…”

“You fucked in the Chantry?!”

“Yep. And not just once. There was a small storage room with candles, parchment and such, the door with just a simple lock… so we sneaked in there and… you know… all the length of the weekly sermon… oh and one night we managed to lockpick the actual main door and did it on the altar… I had a huge bump on the back of my head for a week, from one of Rich’s especially wild thrusts, when he pushed me against the bronze Andraste statue… sheathed his hard, long…”

“Fine, fine, I get it. He was a fucking Champion.”  

Despite the tragic undertone of these memories, Lyra couldn’t help the wicked grin and cooed in her sweetest voice. “Jealous, are we? Would _you_ like to do it in the Chantry?”

“Du-uh, you naughty minx! But another time, I would like to test the new sofa first. Seems soft-yet-sturdy to me. Now, how exactly do I free your breasts? They are calling to me from beneath this fancy fabric… Come to papa...”

As always, Anders’ flirtatious side made something purr deep within Lyra and she shook off the sorrow that kept scrambling to surface. _I’m here with him, the past doesn’t matter._

She slipped out of his arms, turned her back on him, slowly unclasped the golden, ornamented belt around her waist and let it slip in between her fingers onto the soft rug. Anders gulped when she loosened the chain around her neck as well and wriggled out of the gown shamelessly moving her bottom in small circles. Lyra caressed her own perfect ass and smacked the right butt cheek, emitting a lustful moan that reverberated in Anders’ mind as the sweetest of echos.

……………..

Utterly spent, the couple snuggled together in their tousled bed, after the less rushed and more comfortable second round. They didn’t even bother to wash away the sticky sweat and other more intimate traces of their love making, Anders propped himself on an elbow and smiled down at his drowsy wife.

“So… how did it end?”

Lyra, torn out of a blissful slumber, frowned, her mind once again drawn to dwell on a painful memory.

“A noble old bitty was passing through the village with three guardsmen and stopped at the inn. Rich didn’t know better but to search her carriage for some jewellry he wanted to give me. I was stupid enough to watch him do it, impressed by his boldness. And he got caught. Unarmed he broke the guard’s jaw and was killed in retribution…” Lyra shivered. She remembered the wind on her wet cheeks, the salt of tears on her tongue, his body in her arms, getting heavier every minute, his blood made her shaking fingers sticky, tangled in his unruly hair. Rich’s features were blurred in her memory, yet the wide opened blue eyes vividly stared at her, unseeing and empty. The intensity of her pain caught Lyra off guard, the formally separated past had made its way into her presence and she sobbed, wrapped tightly in Anders’ arms.

“Love, I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

Lyra took her time to calm down, Anders’ steady heartbeat soothed her nerves, and finally her chin stopped shaking and she looked at him, grateful for the life in his amber eyes. A bitter smile curled her lips. “Why did I have to choose yet another fool who rushes into self-destructive missions?! Anders, I can’t cradle my man’s dead body again… have mercy.”

Speechless, the healer hugged his Champion even tighter, feeling her fluttering heart beating against his ribcage. _If only I could promise, my love._  

 

 

……………………………………………..

Lyra stood in the middle of her buzzing parlor, twelve of the most significant Kirkwall nobles chatting, nibbling on delicious food she served them, sipping expensive wines from her thinning supply.

_Why, in the name of the sweet bastard Arishok, did I think this would be a great idea?_

The last social event she visited, ages ago, was abruptly ended in an attempt for her life, enabled by the betrayal of Sebastian Vael. She forgave the Prince a long time ago and they parted in peace, yet the unease in such a similar setup lingered, and she felt naked, on display to strangers, abandoned by her friends who couldn’t be there; the outcasts and commoners. _Breath in, breath out. The Champion of Justice stands tall and true to their purpose._

And so the Champion mingled, moving gracefully around the room, greeting her guests, feeling their appreciative stares, some with a bitter undertone of jealousy at her status and looks. First, she listened to their gossip and complaints, smiling sympathetically, or offering her help, would it be in her power. The atmosphere loosened, partly on her own behalf, and of course the wine that flowed freely. Lady Ethelred, a wealthy widow, noticed the beautifully embroidered pillows, and marveled in the meanings of the scales and healer’s staff. Lyra took the chance and turned the conversation to human rights, equality, and vital uses of healing magic. She didn’t want to push it too hard, just open the topic and see where the conversation would lead.

She felt a hand on her lower back and a creepy, sweet voice whispered in her ear, making her skin crawl. “We need to talk in a more private setting, Champion.” She turned around to face the oh-so-mighty Bastell, the most powerful man in Kirkwall, the grey eminence of both legal trade and smugglers. With tremendous restrain, she nodded in agreement, mindful of her task while an angry hiss resonated in her head. _You better watch your hands you cocky mongrel, and address me in a decent manner._

He directed her to an empty corner near the brandy cabinet. _Great, I can smash a bottle over his stupid head._

She sized up the man. He was quite comely, in his mid forties, tall with blondy hair and cold, grey eyes, very well aware of his power and charm. His smile was fake. Icy. And she needed his support.

“I won’t dance around this, Serah. My wife had passed half a year ago, I need to replace her. True, she gave me an heir, yet there are other things the right woman might offer. You are the best choice there is. Wealthy and beautiful. Yet why haven’t you married a long time ago, all Kirkwall wonders? You’re not getting any younger… is there something wrong, are you infertile or disfigured?”

Lyra stared at him, musing if he had indeed proposed to her in the most rude manner possible. She froze, torn between the urge to kick his balls, break his proud nose or waste a bottle of fine brandy on shattering his skull. She opened her mouth, about to say that the Kirkwall’s Champion was already married to a gorgeous apostate, when a familiar voice cut in their surreal conversation.

“Good evening Messere Bastell, if you excuse me, I would like to borrow my fiancé.”

“Fiancé? Champion, I had no idea you were engaged to the pious Prince of Starkhaven.”

With a curt bow and badly suppressed anger in his voice, the nobleman backed away and mingled with other guests.

Lyra stared at Sebastian. “And neither did I.”       

   

       

 


	31. Devout Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of Sebastian's fake engagement proposal... Lyra is pissed and Anders finds out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't plan this, the story begins to get out of my hands, Maker save me!  
> As always, I would love to hear your opinion...  
> Soundtrack for the last scene:  
> Hozier - Better Love  
> I'm all about Hozier lately lol
> 
> And my eternal thanks to TurboNerd, my amazing beta :)  
> .......................................

Lyra walked to the brandy cabinet, poured herself a generous glass and gulped down half of its content in one swing.

_Just hold your shit together, you have guests!_

She turned to face Sebastian Vael, and growled at the dashing Prince.

“What were you thinking? Why would you do such a thing? I’m already married, you blighted idiot! To Anders! Remember him? I doubt he would like to share.”

“I didn’t know you had married him. Nobody told me and there wasn’t any announcement at the Chantry.”  

Lyra snorted. “Of course there wasn’t, we didn’t ask the Chantry to wed us, Varric did it. Not that it matters. In the Maker’s eyes we are married.”

“Well, technically…”

“Oh shut it, Seb. We don’t need some bitter old crone to say so, we exchanged vows in front of witnesses and we intend to honor them. So unless your precious Chantry does approve of marriages of three, I’m taken.”

Sebastian kept his expression neutral and waited through the rest of her rant. Or a punch to his nose. A well aimed kick into his balls. A biting slap. Or all three, really. He would very much prefer those to the uncomfortable silence that spread in between them after Lyra said her bit. She glared at him, hands on her hips, her nostrils widened with heavy breaths; that was not good.

“Kindly explain yourself.” Her hiss couldn’t be any colder.

Sebastian stood tall. He was the _Prince_. He wouldn’t let anyone to back him into a corner like a frightened puppy. Not even her.

“Well I overheard the man and it seemed to me you had only two choices, one worse than the other. You could either turn him down and make him your mighty enemy, or you would have to marry him, which would not make you happy, would it?”

No answer. Just icy glares.

“... so I came up with a sensible excuse, one which should not turn him openly against you. Surely you must see my reasons?”

Still no answer. The green glare made him sweat a bit.

“I suppose I do owe you an explanation, why I’m here in first place, as you didn’t invite me.”

No answer whatsoever. A raised eyebrow and bitter grin.

“Varric asked me.”

Her passive-aggressive silence gone, Lyra gaped at the rogue. “What? Why would he ask _you?_ That’s blighted bullshit!” She stepped closer and gripped his forearm. “Stop lying to me!”

Sebastian straightened his broad shoulders and looked down on her. “I do not lie. Since all of your close friends are either apostates, outlaws or formal enslaved elves and as such couldn’t be here, Varric asked me to keep an eye on you. He would do it himself, but he had a very important meeting. Trust me, I was his very last option.”

“First, I do not need a babysitter!” Lyra stomped her foot under her gown, the effect of such theatrical gesture somewhat ruined as her ankle twisted, her knee gave away and she would certainly fall if not saved by Sebastian’s quick reflexes. He helped her gain balance. She shrugged off his hands immediately.

“Second, what was more important to Varric, than to ease my suffering through this _lovely frivolity_?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, reluctant to add more fodder to the bonfire. “He said he had some guests coming over to discuss a once in the lifetime business opportunity.”

“I can’t believe he would ditch me over a card game!”

“Oh that’s not…”

“Oh please! That’s it! You’re such a terrible liar!”

“Yes, I am. Yet actually, I do take pride in that.”

“Fine. Why couldn’t he ask Aveline? Oh don’t bother answering, I know she wants the City Guard to stay out of politics.”

“Yes. Plus Varric said, she would ruin this fine party with the constant armor clanking.” Sebastian smiled in hope it could break the tension a little. In vain.

No answer. A low growl.

“Hawke, I admit this is not an easy situation, but we might make it work in your favor.”

“How, exactly? It seems to me this is no better. Either I do _marry you_ , which is NOT an option or I tell Bastell the truth and he’ll do everything to make my life in Kirkwall miserable. His contact net is so wide, it would take forever to overrule him on the trade field. His influence spreads like the taint. So tell me once again, how is this better?”

“Well as much as I hate deception in the Maker’s eyes …” Sebastian indeed looked a bit nauseous, “... we could pretend an engagement till he gets another wife, which, from what I’ve heard about him, won’t take long. He doesn’t like to spend money on whores and to have his household run by servants. He just needs to find one pretty and wealthy enough…”

A sarcastic snort interrupted his musings. “Yeah. because pretty and wealthy girls are roaming all over Kirkwall in packs… that could take months, years even! There’s only so long one can prolong an engagement. Before we know it, there will be a very public wedding upon us.”

Lyra turned around to see half of her guests rushing towards them, some beaming, some hiding their bitter faces poorly. Bastell clearly couldn’t hold his tongue. _Oh blighted horse dung!_

“What unexpected news! We had not idea this is actually an engagement party, you two secret doves!” _They are teasing._

“Such a beautiful pair!” _They are swooning._

“You know, I have an excellent cook, she could prepare your wedding reception.” _They are fucking helpful._

“Or you might hire my ten elven servants to pour wine and look pretty in their matching sparse outfits.” _They are making sick offers._

“Have you set the date yet? I need to have a new gown made! I don’t have anything to wear!” _They are fretting in snobbish vanity._

“Will you move to Starkhaven and rule there?” _Shit, they are shipping me with the Prince._

Lyra turned to Sebastian with a ‘get me out of this or I’ll release Dog on them’ look. She seemed to the rogue as a wild, trapped cat, on the brink of panic, ready to bite and scratch her way out through the pack of advancing wolves.

So the Prince beamed for the wolves and dared to place a protective arm around Lyra’s waist.

Though Sebastian’s palm felt misplaced and uninvited, the Champion stood still, rigid, her jaw clenched, fingers curling into fists, nails digging into palms to remind her this wasn’t a nightmare she could wake up from. _Anders, beloved, where are you? We need to blow this wretched city into the air, burn it to ashes and flee._

But her tall, magnificent healer wasn’t there to catch her and besides, deep down she knew in his presence she would let herself fall, she couldn’t have afforded it. _No, I’m better alone._

The Champion straightened her shoulders, remembered her position and the purpose of this charade. To provide cover for her mage hideaway, explain all the extra purchases at the closely monitored market. _For Justice. I have to play along._ In a steady voice she assured the buzzing crowd the engagement is going to honor her future royal husband’s origin and the wedding wouldn’t be before a year had passed.

She stood there and received congratulations with a graceful smile, no one could hear the screams in her head.

_I’m married! I’m wedded and bedded! I belong to Anders! I’m HIS and he’s MINE! Maker knows!_

_…………………………..._

Come midnight, Lyra stood in front of the roaring fireplace alone in the silent parlor, captivated by the lively flames. Their dance and myriads shades of red, orange, yellow on the black background calmed her down. Yet no matter how close to the hearth she moved, the violent shivers that wracked her body wouldn’t draw back.

Orana and two other maids tiptoed around her, cleaning the remains of the buoyant cater. Every clatter of silverware and chink of glasses made her flinch, tore her out of the trance the flames casted upon her and she closed her eyes to fight back the horrid images that rushed back.

The laughter and merriment of the company, their flourishing toasts to the Prince and his Champion and their shared, bright future. The slow dance the trio of musicians she hired for the evening played for them, its sweet tune still resonated in her ears. Sebastian holding her in his arms...Such a pathetic farce, yet it affected her as only a few moments in her life so far. So so so fucked up! It should be Anders’ hands, Anders’ familiar scent, Anders’ soft voice, Anders’ body heat and heartbeat she should have felt.

Dog sat right next to her leg and she patted his broad head absentmindedly, grateful for his silent companionship. Her gaze lingered on the painting above the mantlepiece, the one she couldn’t pass without wishing to actually be in it. The golden beach at sunset, two black dots in the distance, taking a walk along the tide line. If only it were Anders and her. Bare feet on warm sand, an occasional high wave rushing over their tanned calves, leaving a tingling sensation and the urge to chase it back in the sea. Light breeze ruffling Anders' dark blond and her raven black tresses together every time they stopped for a kiss. She could almost taste the sweet mix of salt and wine on his warm, soft lips, and smell the intoxicating combination of elfroot, sandalwood, fresh parchment and something unearthly that was distinctly Anders.

_Anders. Where are you?_

Vaguely she remembered he said he would stay out of the way and just spend the night at the clinic. Lyra’s shoulders slumped as a longing sigh left her lips. She craved her man, yet was terrified to actually meet him. To talk to him. To tell him. To tell him that come morn all of Kirkwall would buzz with excitement about her fake engagement to Sebastian. To the man both Anders and Justice hated for his view on mages, his support of the Grand Cleric’s unwillingness to tame the Templars and his misjudged actions that lead to an attempt on her very life.

She strode to the brandy cabinet and instead of pouring just one glass, she drank straight from the half empty bottle, almost choked on the potent, golden liquid. As the alcohol began to heat up her shivering body and heavy mind, she shook her head and closed her eyes in hope the whole mess would be lifted off her shoulders when she opened them again.

In vain. The hour was late and if she didn’t find Anders before dawn, he might have heard the news from someone else’s lips. That could not happen.

Not bothering to change from the splendid gown, she just unlocked the cellar door, took a silver, lit candleholder and walked down into their hideaway. Aran and Gracie, the two apostates they harbored, were no longer there; Anders and his contacts managed to smuggle them out of Kirkwall the night prior. The room was supposed to be empty. Yet there was a slowly dying fire in the two fires-baskets, and looking around Lyra saw one of the cots occupied.        

In the flickering candle light she gazed upon her husband’s face and smiled. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, his long hair pulled back in a messy bun he didn’t care to loosen. The subtle worry lines were less distinct and his skin had a more healthy color. An astray dark blond lock tickled the corner of his mouth, he flinched and blew it away with an annoyed growl, yet didn’t wake up. A light, open shift revealed his heaving chest; he must have tossed in his sleep earlier, as the blanket was wrapped around his waist, leaving his long legs exposed. She dared to tickle his foot, and grinned when he kicked his legs unconsciously to fight off the imaginary fly.

Lyra tossed three logs into each of the burning, iron fire-baskets, slipped out of the soft leather shoes, took off the golden ornamented belt around her waist, wiggled out of her fine dress and snuggled next to her man in nothing but lace panties. She traced the outlines of his handsome face with her forefinger, tickled on the corner of his mouth, well aware how sensitive a spot it was. A strong arm hugged her tight, pulling her closer until she rested comfortably against his firm, warm chest.

Lyra took a deep breath, well three actually, to gather her courage and prepare for whatever reaction Anders might have to her news.

“Beloved?” Her voice barely a whisper.

“Love…” a sleepy murmur left his lips.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Hmm.. had too much brandy, had we?” Lyra heard the smile behind his words.

“We can’t never ever have too much brandy.” She snuggled even closer and laid her open palm above his steadily beating heart. “You know the grey eminence of Kirkwall’s trade?”

“Heard of him.”

“He wanted to marry me.”

The heart beneath her palm began to beat faster. Anders’ arm around her tightened, as if he needed to hold her against an evil force that might steal her away. Yet his tone was light, almost amused.

“Can’t blame him, you’re a catch.”

“I didn’t know how to get out of it without pissing him off, which is the last thing I can afford right now. And next thing I know I’m announcing my engagement to Sebastian Vael.”

She felt his heart rate plummeted to the roof, the arm gripping even tighter.

“I must be having a terrible nightmare. I thought we get rid of the pious prick. You invited him here? His hideous belt buckle and all?”

“No! Apparently Varric appointed him as my guard behind my back. No other from our little band of misfits could have been here.”

“I see, and the …” Anders couldn’t bare to say _engagement_ out loud, “... the whole charade was Vael’s idea?”

“Yes, he sort of cut right into Bastell’s proposal speech. But he didn’t plan it, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Anders…” Lyra spoke softly, reached for his hand and planted a kiss in his opened palm. “It’s fake and just to keep Bastell out of my back with the smallest possible damage to our interests. We’ll cancel the farce as soon as he finds another wife...” and the words came pouring “I’m so sorry, my beloved. I betrayed you. I felt so lost and alone. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, that I’m already married, that I love a man none could match, that I’m his!”

“And are you still?”

“Yes! The vow I made to you stands! I swear I love you and am here for you until the day I die. I’m your woman.”  

Silence.

“Beloved?”

“Hmm…”

“Please say something.” Lyra’s heart stopped for a fraction and she bit her lower lip, tasting the metallic flavour of her own blood.

Anders found his voice.

“Love… I’m sorry you had to go through this. It’s my fault I can’t give you the life you deserve. But I’m weak to walk away from you, you’re mine and I told you before witnesses, that even if you didn’t care about me, I would still love you. I was, am and will ever be your devout man. This I swear to you, my love.”

Anders moved over her, propped on his elbows, pinning her down into the wobbly cot. He studied her face, soft features in the candle light. Green eyes wide open searching his for cues. Lyra’s lips parted, but before she could say a word, her true husband was kissing her fiercely, his hands warm against her cheeks, fingers entwined in her dark hair, ruining the nice updo she had for the party…

In spite the whole blighted mess, the Champion felt loved and truly blessed.         


	32. Justice Is Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> once again I have to say: "Justice wtf? Uncool!" oh and then some dwarves ;)
> 
> And many thanks to my dear beta and editor TurboNerd, go check her Zev/femWarden stories!
> 
> As always, I welcome any feedback!!! In means the world to me!!!

Lyra woke up in her secret hideaway, feeling cold, her husband’s warm body missing. Splashing noises caught her attention and she saw Anders in nothing but his breeches, cleaning himself in the washbasin, clearly in a hurry.

“Why don’t you use the tub upstairs? You could have a proper bath and I would love to join you!” She pouted at her man, the prospect of a soothing, warm bath taken away from her the very moment the thought crossed her mind.

“I’m sorry love, I have to…”

“Check on a patient. I know.” She stood up, padded towards him naked, actually enjoying the subtle goosebumps that crept up her arms and made her nipples tingly. Sharp, amber eyes followed her across the room, appreciating the teasing show. Her gorgeous man gulped yet didn’t move to meet his beloved kitten. The inner conflict made his mouth curl, he ran his hand through the dark blond locks, a gesture of abashment. Mindful of his healer duties, Anders sighed, once again cursing this mockery of his happily ever after. He was needed elsewhere, had two seriously ill patients to check on and a meeting with his dissent group. He had planned to slip out unnoticed, to leave his wife in peaceful sleep, yet there she was, strutting towards him, letting her seductive curves dance. She was offering herself as the most delicious, lush breakfast. Anders would feast on the temptress, he would devour her if only his time actually belonged to him.  

Slow and silent, her every move soft and graceful, she took a towel and began to dry him. His face, his shoulders, his chest. Drop by drop, her breath dancing on his skin, and he leaned into her touch with eyes firmly shut to avoid the heated green gaze. Lyra moved behind him and took care of his back. He hissed when she let her lips wander along his spine.

“Love, I really, really have to go…”

“Of course…”

She pressed against his back, he felt her breasts and pert nipples against his skin, she hugged him tight, running her hands across his torso, steadily moving lower and lower, till she reached the laces on his suddenly very tight breeches.

“Love, please I really have to go…”

“Indeed…”

Ignoring his pathetic pleas she unlaced his pants, slipped in front of him, pushed the impedimental garment down and next moment all Anders could think about was the intense pleasure her warm mouth woke in his body and mind. Instinctively he entwined his slender fingers in her hair, to feel more connected and intimate with his woman, never to demand more than she was willing to give.

The voice of an uninvited intruder echoed in his mind. Justice.  

**_Stop her!_ ** _ The satiation of your selfish primal needs is not our priority, we must to go. Help the oppressed and hurting, help Justice.  _ **_Stop it, or I'll take over!_ **

Anders gasped, his hands slid down to Lyra's shoulders and he pushed her away with more force than necessary. He looked into those bright, honest eyes, and cursed himself for doing this to her. 

“Anders?” She spoke in a husky voice, confused, robbed of her favorite toy. 

“Sorry, I can't…” Mustering all his courage, Anders turned away, he couldn't bear her gaze. He grabbed his robes, boots and staff, not really caring if he had it all and bolted to the lower cellar level to get to his clinic. 

Once there, he dressed himself, his movements full of suppressed rage, which got him tangled in the jumble of clothes, he tore a hole in his shirt and managed to pinch his fingers with the pin that held his coat together.

With one boot still missing he sank on a nearby cot and buried his solemn face in his palms. 

_ Justice, what the fuck! How dare you?  _

_ I do what is necessary. What Justice demands. _

_ You can't use me like this… don't do this to me… you were my friend, a noble Spirit, don't you see you're just a step away from turning into a demon? Why? _

_ For Justice. _

_ No matter the cost? No matter the means? No matter my life? _

_ Nothing matters but Justice... _

And with these words Anders’ world turned black. He wasn't in control. Only snippets rushed before his eyes. Snippets he couldn't put together to get a picture of Justice’s actions. Of his own actions. 

……………………………………………...

Lyra stared at the door that so abruptly closed behind her man. Stared in shock. Disbelief. How could he? Yes, she had been pretty pushy, but surely he could spare a few moments with her...  _ Maker, what have I ever done to you? _

Out. She needed out. And punch.  _ Yeah, go out and punch something.  _

As quickly as possible she made herself decent, put on her leathers, hopped to the kitchen for some of yesterday’s party leftovers to appease her rumbling stomach and bolted out the door, grinding her teeth from the suppressed feelings she was determined to bottle up; at least until she faced Anders again. 

The light of a crisp morning blinded her and she stumbled directly in her fake fiancé. Her nose buried itself deep in a fragrant bouquet before it hit Sebastian’s chest.

“Seb, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“And good morning to you too, Hawke.” The Prince looked slightly hurt, he expected her to be just a pinch grateful after sleeping on the events of the previous evening. Surely she must have realised what a great service he had provided for her.

“Well nothing good has happened to me so far. I’m not sure, if I have woken up from yesterday’s nightmare. I need to do something. I feel like going to the Chantry.”

“What? You never pray!”

“Who said anything about praying? Gimme the flowers.” She rolled her eyes at Sebastian’s stubborn pout. “Pretty please.”

“Oh fine, but I’m going with you, you have that feverish gleam in your eyes. The bad one.”

“Oh fine, you babysitter. Just don’t hold my hand or pinch my ear when I misbehave.” And Lyra headed to the Chantry at a swift and determined pace.

……………………………………

Once in the magnificent temple, where only whispered prayers and pleas carried through the fragrant air, where people tiptoed in the soft shadows, some searching the guidance of clerics, some a calming solitude, the Champion knelt in front of the graceful statue of the Maker’s bride and laid the flowers at her feet. To Lyra’s own surprise a prayer formed in her troubled mind. 

She had never been a religious type, all the kicks of destiny didn’t push her towards the faith, she always relied on herself to solve any shit that came around. Maybe, just out of a habit, when in trouble she would call upon the Maker, or cursed him; a hollow proclamation with no deeper meaning. Yet in that very moment, in the Chantry, she remained on her knees, head low, as a wave of despair rolled over her. Her ashen face full of anguish, mercifully hidden by the veil of her loosened black hair. And soon enough, tears began rolling down her cheeks, traveled into her half opened mouth, she tasted their salt, which matched the biting pain in her chest. Finding her voice on a third try, Lyra whispered, hesitant at first, gaining confidence with each word. 

“Andraste, tell me, how could you be so strong? Show me the way, give me the strength, bless the one I love… I confess, I took so many lives, in self-defense or to aid others, though sometimes as a quicker and more effective mean to achieve a greater good… or simply to get what I needed, what I wanted. Is the Maker punishing me for that? Testing me?”

Lyra’s breaths became heavy, her heart hammered in her tightening chest. 

“I will fight. I always do. For them, for him, for us. I just need some air, I need him to stop pushing me away. I need to feel useful and… loved.”

And in the quiet and serene temple, at the feet of the Maker’s Chosen One, the Champion of Justice felt a weight lifted of her slouching shoulders, her breathing eased and a fragrant air filled her lungs to their every cell. Under a strong impulse she kissed the statue’s feet and rose slowly. Straight back and head held high with visible wet paths the tears left on her cheeks,  she turned towards Sebastian. The Prince kept a respectable distance, taken aback by the strange scene he had witnessed. Before a single word could have materialized in the tensed air, a soft voice greeted Lyra.

“I’m happy you honored us with your presence, Champion. How can I be of service to you?” The Grand Cleric beamed, though the smile didn’t quite reach her sharp eyes. The spell of the moment broken, Lyra frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest, sending a clear message to the Maker’s servant. 

“Make no mistake, your  _ Holiness,  _ I might have found some solitude and balm to my soul in here, but that has scarcely anything to do with you.”

“Nevertheless, I’m glad the Chantry served you. I’m here for my flock, to offer my  guidance and peace.” 

“What peace do you offer to the suffering mages? What guidance do you provide for those who are stumbling, terrified to be casted into the darkness? Darkness threatening to devour their souls once they are sentenced to the Rite?”

Elthina didn’t move a muscle. Her expression calm as always. “I can’t intervene in such a conflict, the Maker watches over all his children and it’s up to them, how they live and die. He stands above, waiting for them, if they choose to live by the values he represents.”

Lyra frowned, she had expected this. “Sorry, I’m a bit confused by all your noble, empty phrases.” She heard Sebastian hiss behind her, he even touched her shoulder to remind his friend of her place. She didn’t care. Not anymore. “So, just to make it clear, you still refuse to get the Knight Commander under control, to stop her terror?”

“My dear child, that has never been my place. I can offer a neutral ground and a sympathetic ear to help them solve their dispute, and my prayers for them to find a peaceful solution.” Elthina bowed her head, an unmistakable signal, that their conversation had reached its end. To Lyra’s annoyance, the Grand cleric changed the subject to the least pleasant one. 

“Champion, I’ve heard about your engagement. My congratulations. I hope you’ll find happiness at Sebastian’s side. He has come a long way, you couldn’t have found a more pious, loyal and humble man. I’m sure you both have much to learn from one another. Treasure him.”

Sebastian nodded, his face mirrored the badly suppressed trepidation, his internal conflict of loyalty to Lyra or the Chantry overwhelmed him, and he excused himself for prayers. Lyra sighed, she knew how difficult this was for her friend and although she treated him with anger and resentment, she knew he wasn’t the one to blame for this mess. But who was then?

She eyed Elthina for a while, the lack of emotion, the calm expression in face of all the accusations irked Lyra, so she turned towards Andraste, took a few deep breaths, focused on the dancing candlelight at the statue’s feet. Once her heartbeat calmed down and the tension in her jaw subdued, Lyra faced the Grand Cleric, her stance composed, yet proud.

“There’s Justice in the world and it’s coming for you and all that hurt the innocents. Beware.”

And without another glance in her opponent’s shocked face, the Champion of Justice left to find her man and their shared Spirit.

……………………………..

Leaving the Chantry’s square, Lyra became aware, she was followed. Not by one, but three small shadows.  _ Damn the dummy dwarves. _

She flexed her fingers, readied for the fight. At a leisurely pace, she lead them into an almost deserted alley, took cover behind a high pile of barrels and wooden crates, drew her daggers and waited for the first fool to go running after her. And sure enough the first fool rushed past her, never even had the chance to see their death coming. The finest dagger buried deep into his broad back. As he fell, a loud angry cry echoed nearby, and the second one came sprinting, oblivious to the finesse and precision he was about to face. Lyra abandoned her hiding place, jumped on one of the sturdy, wooden crates and in the exact moment the dwarf made an attempt for her feet, she jumped in the air and sunk her daggers deep into the exposed nape. She landed on her feet with catlike grace and straightened up to search for the third one. A loud scream pierced the air, followed by a sharp whoosh and she fell backwards, her shoulder hit with a thick iron bolt. She couldn’t breathe, the wind knocked out of her lungs by the hard impact, she clutched her chest with the unharmed hand and saw through the mist of her watery eyes a tall, dark figure, rushing towards her, jumping over the third, dead dwarf, that was scorched black on the ground. And of course, everything went dark. 


	33. Hawke's Blood Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first part of Legacy... it took me such a long time to finish... but at least it's almost twice as long as my average chapters... I hope you will feel the emotions behind my clumsy writing... as always, your interest in my story and your feedback make my day so don't you hesitate to comment... there's a collage of Lyra and Anders below as well ;)
> 
> Song:  
> Christina Perri ft. Jason Mraz - Distance  
> (link below the chapter)

Hawke's Estate

Anders stood in front of the crackling fire, a worried look on his handsome face. He regretted his delay, delay that had been caused by Justice and whatever task he had used Anders’ body for. Anders cursed the Spirit and himself along with it, the blame of Lyra’s newest injury laid on their shoulders equally. 

He turned towards his friend, who came to his urgent call and kept him company till Lyra woke. The all too familiar situation reminded Anders of Lyra’s duel with the Arishok and the terrible nightmare afterwards, when he thought he might have lost her forever. And although his mind told him, that the current injury was minor and nothing he couldn’t heal compared to the grave wound she had suffered in the combat with the Qunari leader, his heart fluttered against an icy hand of fear, that crushed it in an iron grip. He shuddered and turned back to the presence.

“So the Carta tried to break in the Gallows and attack Bethany as well? And you have no idea why?”

Varric made a discontent hiss, not many questions remained unanswered, once he got involved. 

“No idea whatsoever, Blondie. Well, beside the fact that Carta is crazyyyy… But my sources told me they came from a location in the Vimmark Mountains. Once Hawke feels well enough to leave corpses in her wake, we should track them down and pay them a visit. She might try to appeal to Orsino and Meredith to let Sunshine go have some fun as well.”

Anders rubbed his face with his palms, and tried to tuck the loose dark blonde strands back behind his ears. “I just hate the idea they could get to her. It worries me.”

“I can see that, even your hair looks twitchy.”

“You don’t say. Well, as there is nothing to do but brood, I’m going to check on her. She should be waking up from my sleeping spell right now. I'll update her.”

“Yeah, you do that and I'll will make some preparations for the dwarven hunt. We’ll get the bastards, don't you worry, Blondie.”

……………

Anders closed the bedroom door behind him and took a moment, leaning his throbbing forehead against its fine, fragrant wood.  _ Breathe in, breathe out. Justice, don't you dare intervene. This mission is not your agenda, but hopefully we'll meet Bethany and she’ll provide valuable inside information about the daily routine in the Circle. _

_ Agreed. _

Still the healer hovered by the door, the pain in his head became almost unbearable from the strain he put on his mind in a desperate effort to remember what Justice had made him do just an hour ago. 

Back then at his clinic, when he had regained control of his mind and body, there hadn't been much to work with. A number of old, dusty volumes and notes he kept in his humble library had been scattered on his desk, but apparently Justice hadn't taken any notes of what he had been looking for and he had refused to fill Anders in.  _ I'll tell what Justice demands of you and our Champion, just not yet.  _

_ She's not your Champion, she's my wife. And I'll keep her safe. From close or from afar. _

_ Nothing matters but Justice.  _

_ There’s tons of stuff that matters, just so you know. Compassion, friendship, honesty, concern, devotion, love… that’s what forms a man, the whole mankind, that’s the essence of humanity itself. Why can’t you see it?  _

_ I’m Justice.  _

_ Yes, but there’s so much more in the world to have its say.  _

_ I’m Justice. _

_ Oh Maker, it’s like talking to a blighted parrot. Fine, whatever. Just don't fuck with me when Lyra is around. _

Justice hadn't responded and had been silent ever since, but it had felt like the grim calmness of the sea just before the storm. A storm that would engulf them in a swirling vortex of powerful, angry waves, that would tear them apart, wash them off the safe shore, add mordant salt into their open wounds. Anders had bolted out of the clinic’s door, too upset to go after his healer’s duties. He had needed to see Lyra. To apologize. He had made a stop in Lowtown to ask Anna for help with his scheduled check ups, grateful the smart girl had been free and more than willing to assist him.

Having at least one heavy stone lifted of his chest, Anders had rushed to make amends to his wife. And Maker blessed, he had found her just in time, otherwise her life would have been forfeit to the damn Carta dwarves. 

…………………………..

Not able to see through the blocked memory, the healer gave up the futile efforts and returned to the present. Standing in their bedroom, facing Lyra’s slender, sleeping form on their shared bed, hearing her peaceful breathing, Anders hesitated, not sure, what he would tell her once she woke up. The owed apology, the merciful lie or the bitter truth? 

The truth he alone was still reluctant to acknowledge; that he was unable to defy Justice. The dream of at least a shadow of calm, a happy life, was a hopeless illusion. The Spirit could do as pleased and Anders himself had no say. He was no different from the abominations they killed on sight. 

As unbearable as these realisations were, he found complete admittance weirdly liberating. Upon accepting Justice’s full power over himself, Anders would likely lose his wife, his friends, his life. But the struggle would be over. The struggle that costed him too much strength lately, too much time. Time and energy that were needed elsewhere.   

 

Lyra opened her eyes, squinted and took a deep breath. Her shoulder hurt a bit, but it was only a shadow of the sharp pain she remembered experiencing after the bolt tore a hole in her flesh and shattered the bones beneath. Yes, the bolt. Fired by the bloody dwarves. 

Not really paying attention to her surroundings, Lyra sat up on the bed and let her legs down, her toes touching the soft carpet. She flexed and wiggled, making sure her body was in full, working condition. And it was. Alas, if only the same could be said about her mind. Flashes of being carried, washed with warm, healing waves of the well recognized, intimately close magical force. Anders to the rescue, to mend her body and scar her soul; a pain worse than ten thousand daggers in her back. And it mattered not he did so unintentionally, trying to protect her from harm. 

As the assassination attempt sunk in and the shock of being caught off guard subsided, other pressing memories surfaced and were brought into full daylight. The feeling of being pushed away, kept in dark, shielded and unknowing made her heart hammer with frustration. She closed her fists and tried to shake it off. If Anders only knew how much more damage his rejection and protective behavior caused her. It seemed no matter what reassurance she offered and promise for change he made, they were still on square one.

Him, keeping secrets, struggling in between his need to be with her and the deluded opinion, that she was better without him, safer and happier; and her, the smitten kitten, who loved him to the point of physical pain, when he wasn’t around or was pushing her away. There had been moments of calm happiness, but they couldn’t last. 

Lyra lifted her eyes and gasped, for she met Anders’ intent gaze. Her husband stood silent near the doorway, a haunted ghost with an aura of grim peace around him. Somehow he looked taller but thinner than the last time she saw him that very morning; a grey shadow looming above his head. 

Angry. She should be angry. Tell him he couldn’t treat her like an impedimental distraction, a weight tied to his leg. Yeah, she should tell him. Quickly averting her eyes, focusing on her fidgety hands, not really sure about their next step, she stated.

“Soooo you saved my neck again. What a perfect husband you are.” She meant to sound cynical, yet her words came out flat, an impassive statement. Her fire was gone. As if she didn’t care, as if she was dead inside. As if the love that filled her, spurred her into action, even shaped her into the person she had become, was spent. Drowned by Anders’ constant struggle with his insecurities, by his excessive need to pamper her, by the one foot that he kept halfway out of the door of their relationship.  _ What a fucking saboteur. _ And she was tired. So tired. Even her recently healed body felt heavier every minute, her hands were cold and clammy. 

Finally, Lyra dared to meet his eyes again and when she saw the pain in their amber depths, pain she had added on top of his many worries, it was like a slap to a petulant child. Her eyes widened, she woke up. Hit by the tide of devotion that warmed her from inside out, and calmed her down. He was hers. Her Anders. And somehow, she knew that no matter how hard he tried to push her away it wasn't from the lack of love. He was just protecting her, while battling the demons he kept inside. He didn’t know better.  _ I can’t cause him pain! He’s my beloved! _

And Anders saw the shift in her eyes, the understanding and forgiveness.  _ Fuck! Love, why can't you let me out?  _

Somehow his words left him and he just stood there, speechless, frozen, unable to  either cross the distance toward Lyra or turn his back on her and run away. She seemed to be severed from him, a thick milky glass wall in between them, all the sounds hushed away. She could scream and he wouldn't hear her. 

Then she reached out, inviting him in, offering the tenderness and blissful peace of her arms. The setting sun broke through the colorful window mosaic and casted a fiery combination of dancing glints on Lyra’s black hair and white undershirt. So tempting. Anders ran his hand through his hair, an unconscious gesture he couldn’t control when in stress or doubt. He uttered an annoyed hiss, realising the ruin of his half ponytail, as the leather strap got tangled around his slender fingers. Compelled to offer at least some poor explanation, Anders opened his mouth and produced a barely audible apology for his most recent shameful behavior. “I'm so sorry, love. I couldn't…” And he trailed off, no words could possibly mend this scar. Yet his wife smiled and hushed him. She rose from the bed, padded towards him and before he could back off, she was in his arms, pressed against his body, snuggled into his chest.  _ I can’t let myself hurt her, not again. _

Anders found his voice. “Lyra…” His wife tensed, startled by his use of her name instead of the usual loving endearment. She knew what he was about to say but simply couldn't let him. “Anders, please don’t. Could we just put it aside for a while? The future doesn't matter, we'll just live in the present, day by day, from one breath to another. Fuck the rest.”

Anders held her tight, buried his nose in her hair, took in the familiar, sweet fragrance.  _ I'd hold to her to my last breath. If Justice ever let me. For she's my person, my temptress, the fire of my life.  _

_ ………………. _

The Champion was standing in the middle of nowhere, Anders at her side, Aveline in the front, Varric and Bethany in the rear.  With a satisfied grunt Lyra pulled her dagger out of the mass lying in front of her, still twitching with the residual nerve activity.

“Soooo the crazy Carta wants my blood. I might even consider to give them some, if they weren't so stupid and let those brontos loose. The smell is disgusting.” 

Bethany giggled. “I hadn’t realized how much I've missed this. And you. You all. I'm glad the First Enchanter let me come.” 

Lyra grinned at her little sis. Beth’s presence was a rare gift, an unexpected light in the gathering darkness. To see her unharmed, smiling even, at peace with her fate, warmed Lyra's heart and provided the boost she very much needed after the emotional roller coaster she had endured lately. A sudden pull of the family bond urged the Champion to turn around and squeeze Bethany in a bone crushing hug, no matter the fact that her sister was actually taller than her. “I'm so happy you're alright. Please be careful, I fear Meredith crossed the line to insanity long ago…” 

Pulling away Bethany smiled, and reached out to tuck an unruly black lock behind Lyra's ear. “Don't worry, I can take care of myself, big sis.” 

A deep raspy baritone interrupted their moment. “Hawkes, big and little, maybe we should leave the fuzzy hugging for later, when we're done with the bloodthirsty dwarves. You know, those lunatics who want your blood in particular.”

And so they fought through the Carta’s hideout, killing dozens of bloodthirsty dwarves, when finally they faced their leader, a formidable warrior named Rhatigan. As did the others before him, he mentioned someone called Corypheus and his need of the blood of the Hawke.

Lyra had enough. She spun her daggers; an impressive, showy move she usually performed when playing cat and mouse with her opponent. “Blood? Let me just open a vein! How about a kidney, too?”

And without waiting for any response, she charged, followed quickly by somewhat annoyed Aveline, who was supposed to be on the front line, taunting and creating a wall against the heaviest charges. But the Hawke had to fly freely. And she did. She jumped and killed Rhatigan in a single blow dealt from above, only to be knocked down by a charging bronto upon landing back on her feet. Varric and Bethany were raining bolts and fireballs on the snipers, so it was up to Aveline to divert the beast’s attention to herself and leave it’s huge ass as a target for Anders’ lightning. It took only a few spells and sword swings and the bronto collapsed with a loud thud.

Few seconds later, there was a long shout accompanied by a raspy grunt from the strain to stand up. Varric, gathering his shot out bolts nearby, offered the ruffled Champion his helping hand. 

“You know Hawke, sometimes you act like a crazy cuckoo.”

The Champion grinned in response and purred, as a warm surge of healing energy spread through her body, mending the cracked rib, broken leg and bleeding nose. She didn’t need to turn over. “Thank you, Anders.”

“My pleasure. Just stay away from brontos, will you?” Anders caught up with her, reached out and started to redo her loosened, short braid. “You should really wear a helmet, Hawke. I would hate to see your hair once again burned away.”

“Nope, can’t do. I need all the heavily armed wankers to freeze from the sight of my floppy ears, they’re my most lethal weapon. Hmmm, that feels so damn good.” And she leaned into his touch, purring like a petted cat.

A sharp shout interrupted their moment. “Blondie, stop with the foreplay and come here! And your other half as well! I’ve found something peculiar.” 

The party gathered around a strange looking blade the size of a small sword but oddly shaped, its hilt carved and decorated with mysterious engravings and sparkling gems.  Lyra stepped closer, she couldn’t explain the sudden magnetism she felt towards the weapon. “Hawke, don’t touch it!” Aveline, Varric and Anders yelled in unison, all of them feeling a wave of strong distress and misgivings. The weapon seemed to sizzle and vibrate on the ground. Bethany said nothing, though her expression was far from calm.

Once again proving her recklessness, Lyra grabbed the hilt and straightened up to examine it closer. Her eyes grew wide as the sword began to warm up, a ray of icy blue light brightened the room and a wave of powerful, yet somehow familiar energy ran through her body. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. Magic so different from Anders’ soothing, warm and healing energy. She was charged, filled, guided by it, but she felt no need to run away, to fight it. 

“For fuck sake Hawke! Your eyes are glowing icy blue!” 

“Hawke, are you there?”

“But you can't be possessed, big sis!”

“Cure her, Blondie! Or did you pass to the custody of Justice on her?”

A jumble of shouting echoed through the underground chamber, yet it was the blond, silent mage who rushed towards his Champion’s side at once. 

He grabbed Lyra's shoulders and shook her roughly. “Love, what's happening? Talk to me!” Called back into presence from a strange state of mind, Lyra's eyes turned back to their usual sparkling green. 

“Fine. I’m fine. I feel fine. Everything is fine.”

“For someone whose green eyes glowed icy blue, you seem fine indeed. Could you elaborate on the fineness a bit?”

“My blood feels funny.”

“Hm, how funny exactly? Weird funny or cracking savage jokes funny?”

“Jokes. Fine, savage jokes.”

Anders tilted his head in a fatherly manner. “Hawke…”

She grinned. 

“Don’t fuss over me, beloved. There’s no need for the wrinkle on your forehead. So are we going to dig deeper in this my blood-thriving Coryfucker’s business, or what?”

Varric nodded. “I’m game. Just don’t get all glowy again. One brightly shining mage is enough down here. We’ll do with torches or Sunshine’s fireballs.”

“What about my fireballs?” Anders chimed in, to his own surprise feeling calm and not at all stressed out by the strange situation. He accepted fussing over Lyra as useless, and was content to just watch her closely.

Lyra grinned and eyed her husband’s crotch, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’ll do with your fireballs. They’re so full and…”

“Fine?” Anders’ eyes twinkled. He very much appreciated this teasing. It kept his mind occupied;a mind that would be otherwise distressed by this enclosed space and the unsettling awareness of his senses. He hoped against all the signals they wouldn’t run into any darkspawn. 

Lyra reached for his belt and ran her finger around the iron buckle.  

Aveline rolled her eyes on them. “We should be moving.” 

“Sure, the sooner we find and preferably kill this Coryfucker, we can pick up where we left off.” Lyra squeezed her husband’s tushy and headed towards the door, leading deeper into the underground. 

Anders caught up with her in a few, long strides. “Love, what got into you? Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the flirt, it just seems a bit much for this situation, the strangely acting blade, for us in battle mode…”

He saw her jaw clench and eyes close for a fraction, Lyra fought hard to not let her true emotions out; clearly his wife wasn’t as fine as she claimed.

“It’s just my way to lighten the mood in this dump. And I’m a bit worried about you.” She brushed his fingertips, and smiled when Anders took her hand into his. 

“I’m fine, love. I admit I don’t like dungeons in general, they smell of nug’s poo, the view sucks and there are no cats. Plus the odds of bumping into a flock of charming darkspawn are way too high for my taste.”

“Well, I promise to kill any darkspawn that would attempt to charm you.” They reached the door and Anders felt the hiss in his body, the terrible, bone-chilling song filling his head. Before he could warn Lyra, she let go of his hand to kick away the door. 

Genlocks. Of course.

Lyra gave out a half thrilled, half deranged laugh, and disappeared into her stealth, only to emerge behind the nearest growling mass of flesh. The Champion crouched low, cutting the creature’s knee tendons and as it sunk to the ground, she cut its throat with the new dagger, her eyes sparkling icy blue. The dagger felt like a living extension of her arm, it became a part of her. This time, she moved with caution, blending into shadows, cooperating with Aveline, staying closer to Anders and Bethany, who both unleashed the best they had, sending bolts, fireballs and ice shards as only their mana allowed. 

Yet she saw Anders’ moves weren’t as sure and quick as usual, he seemed distracted and weakened. The barrier he cast around Aveline seemed to waver and flicker, not strong enough to withhold the mighty blows of the vicious brutes. But the battle was almost over, Varric let Bianca sing, and her bolts found their home deep in the yellowish flesh of the two remaining terrible creatures. 

The party didn’t wait long to catch their breath. They were on the move in a few moments, the high levels of adrenalin urging them forward, to seek and kill more evil monsters on the way to their goal. 

An ethereal voice boomed in the chamber they swept clean of skeletons. A voice so rich, deep and powerful, they all froze in their steps. It spoke of demons, their curse and the way of binding them.

Lyra’s heart fluttered madly in her chest. With distraught, wide open eyes she looked to Bethany, and whispered in a raspy voice.

“Is that…”

“Father’s voice. Yes.” Bethany became pale, looking around, half expecting their father to peep from some dark corner. There was no one besides them. Lyra shook her head, muttering under her breath. “This isn’t real. It’s a dream, a fucking nightmare.” 

Anders hugged her from behind, offering the solid, silent support she needed. “I think we should rest for a while.” The others nodded in agreement.

“No, Anders. We have to move on. The explanation to this lies ahead. I have to know what’s going on.” As she wriggled out of Anders’ protective arms, she noticed strange, shimmering, pink orbs. Acting on sudden impulse, she launched at one with the new dagger, then she raced to shatter them all. The moment the third orb dissolved into the thin air, demons rose around them; demons and skeletons alike.

“Hawke, has anyone ever told you, you’re supposed to think first before you stab? Damn it, woman!” Varric shouted while raining bolts at five approaching skeletons. Lyra went for the desire demon before it could attempt to trap her into a poisonous illusion. The voice of her beloved father resonated in her mind, the strange weapon she had found vibrating, humming to the tone of his voice. It felt as if a part of her she didn’t know was missing found its way home. Her moves became faster, she felt a rush of energy, her strikes found their targets with nonchalant ease, her breathing deepened, her heart beat in the rhythm of her smooth battle moves. 

Anders watched her, this beautiful, deadly marvel, shivers running down his neck. He saw his love, a fearsome killer, moving so fast he lost her from sigh now and there. Her eyes shone icy blue as did the strange blade she so quickly took for her own, and used with unmatched finesse and precision.  _ His Champion…  _ The desire demon was doomed. 

“Blondie, watch out!” The shout came from Varric, explaining the loud whoosh of Bianca’s bolt and the skeleton crumbling to the floor on Anders’ left. The mage shook his head, as a cat would, if there was water in its ears, and engaged in the fight again, only to lower his staff after decimating the two last standing skeletons. The battle was over. 

Lyra stood on a heap of broken bones and picked up a severed, cracked skull. Holding it up, looking into its taunting, empty sockets the Champion grinned, her eyes back to sparkling green. “Someone want to play “Let’s put your skeleton together”?”

…………

There were more bound demons and shades to free and kill, more echoes of her father. Lyra relished the fight, she never felt so powerful, driven by a new energy, energy of her family bond. The others watched her, not sure what to think about her gleaming eyes and rapidly increased fighting skills that were crossing the line towards supernatural. Bethany felt the power radiating from her sister; the power of their father’s magic that was clearly hidden in the strange weapon, sleeping until Lyra had activated it. This whole adventure surreal. If not for the stale, stank, tenacious air penetrating deep in her lungs, the sticky dirt ever present on her palms, Bethany would take this for a strange dream.

On a wave of adrenalin, her brow glistening with sweat, cheeks rosy from the heated blood, Lyra kicked down the next door, completely unaware it would open another can of worms, and present another bump in the road to her personal ‘happily ever after’.

Instead of more demons, corpses or darkspawn, they found a pitiful creature, a half mad former Grey Warden. He explained to them, the only way out was actually descend to the very bottom; to open the seals of Malcolm Hawke’s creation. To free and kill the ancient evil called Corypheus. 

So naturally, the first seal was opened by the Champion and the freed pride demon killed with the united effort of her party. Afterwards everyone stood still, taken by surprise by the severity of the task ahead. Anders watched the returned Grey Warden with wide opened eyes, the tension in his jaw and the tight grip on his staff told Lyra there was more than the prospect of vast number of darkspawn to defeat troubling her husband’s mind.

A sorrowful tone of Anders’ voice, his low-key murmur confirmed Lyra’s unease. Though talking foremost to himself the healer got the whole party’s attention. “What’s your name?”

“Name?” The Warden searched for an answer, a deeply buried memory. “I was… Larius. Yes, Warden Commander!”

Anders’ lowered his gaze, he couldn’t bare the sight that embodied one of his nightmares. “He must have come here when heard his Calling, poor wretch.”

The shadow of the Grey Warden seemed to remember. “Yes, the Calling, I’m dead. But I never died.”

Lyra stepped towards Anders, moved in front of him and tried to catch her husband’s gaze. “What’s a Calling? Anders?” Not even the urgency in her voice could penetrate Anders’ detached state of mind. In a flat, almost indifferent voice her man’s words cut deep and shook Lyra’s world. 

“We aren’t immune to the Taint forever. That’s why there aren’t any old Wardens, the song of corruption grows louder in their heads, eventually drowns everything else, drives the Wardens mad. They choose an end more honorable, taking the highest number of darkspawn possible to join them in their deaths.”

Lyra stared at him, mouth opened, eyes watering. “Do you hear the Calling already?”

His wife’s trembling voice woke Anders up from his trance. “No. I don’t. Though I’m not sure I ever will, my fate is different. I do have another purpose and I think Justice might be somehow blocking it, he’s not keen to share the control of me with anyone or anything else. At least that was my theory, now I’m not so sure. I feel the Taint within me reacting strongly in this cursed place.”                                     

Lyra stepped back, retracting into herself as a wounded animal. Aveline’s voice reached her ears as if from afar. The warrior indicated towards a small fireplace in the corner. “I think we all could use some rest, and to eat something.”

Avoiding Anders’ intent, sorrowful gaze, Lyra nodded in agreement. “And drink. Eating is overrated.” 

 

They sat around the dying fire, drowsiness spreading through their limbs, but the sleep eluded them.

Varric passed the half empty, silver brandy bottle to Lyra.

“So, Hawke, how much blood would you be willing to offer this Corypheus to let us out through the front door?”             

The Champion didn’t know better, but to use humor as her defence mechanism, to lock the pain, anger and worries deep in her heart. “I would be willing to give him my kidney if it meant I could take Beth home with me. Oh, and if he would throw in some bronto’s dung. I’ve heard it’s excellent for one’s herbal garden.”

“Love, you don’t have a herbal garden.” Anders decided to play along, waiting patiently for better time and place to discuss this latest crisis. 

“Really? Have you not seen my famous basil patch?”

“You mean your filthy window sill with the windblown weed?”

“Hush husband, don’t ruin my herbalist’s reputation.”   

Anders chuckled as Lyra’s eyes rolled theatrically, but no funny face or joke could have lifted the strange, grim and ominous atmosphere of this Maker forsaken place and the tension between them. 

The chill spread into his body, reaching deep and tugging on a side of him he had almost forgotten. He left the Wardens a long time ago, and with Justice inside him, there was no room left for the Taint and its corrupted song. Justice had taken it all for his own purpose and Anders hadn’t objected. Yet it was all there, hidden, sleeping, waiting for a wake up call. And it came. The moment they stepped into the tunnels humming with darkspawn activity, Anders felt the all too much familiar link, the curse that started to race and buzz in his veins. 

When they met Larius, a shock wave hit him harder than he would have imagined.  _ Is this my fate? Or will I die on a suicidal mission for Justice? Please, let it be the later… I can’t end up like this, I can’t. _

Justice stirred within him, agitated with the feeling of the bond. The bond of blood and corruption. The same corruption that poisoned his true, pure form and twisted it into the vengeful alter ego.

_ This isn’t our fate. I won’t let anyone else control you. _

The cruel irony curled Anders’ lips into a bitter grin.

_ Of course not, you’re the only one in control of me, right? _

_ Yes. I am. _

The statement rang in Anders’ ears but was drowned by the powerful and harsh song of the tainted creatures. It felt both strange and familiar, terrible yet appealing in some way. He glanced sideways at his wife, feeling the urge to be comforted by the bond to another human being. He dared to take her bare, warm hand in his, ran his thumb over her knuckles, appreciating the intimacy of the skin to skin contact. He was immensely grateful she took off her leather gloves a while ago.   

Lyra’s heart gave a mighty flip. She sensed out his distress, once again her love for him overrode her own pain and she couldn’t ignore her man’s suffering. Closing the demonstrative gap in between them, she leaned against his shoulder and inquired in a whisper. “Beloved? How do you feel?” 

Anders knew his wife well enough not to dare to wave her question away. She would feel even worse if he didn’t give her something to work with. And as he alone just received the comfort of her soothing presence, it would feel wrong to deny her the same. So he let her have some pieces. “I’ve tried to forget about this part of myself, Justice is so strong, sometimes the Wardens seem insignificant, but seeing that poor bastard brings it all back. The darkspawn Taint, the call of the archdemon, it’s inside me, as much a part of me as Justice.” 

Lyra’s heart fluttered. She alone had forgotten about this particular chapter of her husband’s fate, as it seemed insignificant, distant from their daily life. Ashamed by her very limited knowledge of the Grey Wardens, Lyra couldn’t say anything but a simple, “I love you.”

 

Link to the song Distance below:  
  
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ROqTa1mn_qc&list=FLeMNaB_yIzC0YlVsXYa1uyw&index=28](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ROqTa1mn_qc&list=FLeMNaB_yIzC0YlVsXYa1uyw&index=28)

 


	34. Anders' Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they are still trapped in Corypheus' prison... Anders isn't handling it very well :(
> 
> As always thanks to my beta TurboNerd and you all, my precious readers, who took interest in my story. Any comment will be highly appreciated :)
> 
> link to a fitting song below the chapter

 

Being only at the start of their journey to the heart of Corypheus’ Tower, the party took turns on watch for six or so hours, there was no way they could have rushed it on one continuous march. Every fighter of their mischievous company needed a break. A rest for both body and mind. The heavy atmosphere of their surroundings, the chill that crept to their very bones and had only partly to do with the low temperature and damp air, all the eerie sounds that startled them; no wonder the lot felt tired, cold and wet, longing for fresh air and open sky. 

The healer and his Champion shared a bedroll in their impromptu camp, Lyra curled beside Anders, her back pressed into against chest moving with deep breaths, the warm air he exhaled tickling her below the right ear, just on her pulse point. His arm wrapped around her stomach, open palm warming her skin even through her fighting leathers. Rarely, she had trouble falling asleep, but there she couldn’t find peace and rest. 

Anders, wide awake to all the inner voices clamouring in his head, sensed out the Champion’s tingling nerves, the agitated beating of her heart and pressed his lips against the delicate skin of her temple. He hummed a soft tune under his breath and found out it served well to soothe both Lyra and himself. The song he sang for her more than once came to him, it had become their hymn, their mantra. 

 

“And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways

Maybe just the touch of a hand

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day

And I just wanna tell you I am

So honey now

Take me into your loving arms

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

Place your head on my beating heart…”

 

Lyra turned to face her husband, enlightened him with an honest smile, pushed him down on his back and settled against Anders’ side with her hand and cheek resting against the mage’s chest just over his beating heart. Anders stroked her hair and brushed the side of her neck, rewarded with a content purr. After a while, the pleasant drowsiness began to creep into Lyra’s limbs and she sighed, sitting up reluctantly. She looked over the flames and called quietly to her friend.

“Varric, go get some rest, it’s my turn to squint into the dark emptiness.”

“My pleasure, Hawke.”

Lyra leaned over to kiss Anders, which inevitably led into a lover’s struggle, as her man wouldn’t let go of her that easily. She swatted his grabby hands and blew him a kiss, stood up, stretched her back and walked to a wooden crate on the outskirts of the circle of warm light casted by their fire. She sat down on the worn wood, facing the darkness and cold draft. The Champion had never spared a thought on the reason of Darkspawn existence, in her youth they were a mere myth, something in her fantasy realm, not even worth speaking of. It would be naive and foolish to bring them in the daylight. She remembered one afternoon, fooling around with her first love in an empty barn. 

……………………………………..

_ Richard kissed the side of her neck, pressing her down within the scratchy hay, whispering silly compliments into her ear.  _

_ “You are my ripe raspberry… my peppery puppy… my candy cat…”  _

_ She squirmed beneath him, all flushed and giggling, nothing to worry about, just enjoying their moment together, the heat, passion and life radiating from her lover’s muscular body. Rich grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with all the goosy nicknames that flooded his mind.  _

_ “My dandy daisy… my beautiful bitch… my prickly peppermint… my ablaze archdemon…”  _

_ Lyra sat up.  _

_ “Your what?” _

_ Her handsome smith looked a bit taken aback by his own choice of words, and ran his hand through his unruly, brown hair.  _

_ “It just came to my mind, I don’t know why, I didn’t mean to spook you.” _

_ “You can’t spook me with some old nanny’s tall story.”  _

_ She locked her hands behind his strong neck and leaned to his ear.  _

_ “Now you might spook me a bit more with your dainty dick…” She felt the boyish grin of his lips against her neck.  _

_ “As my ladybird Lyra commands.” _

_ …………………………………………  _

As if to mock her, not even a year after Richard’s tragic death, the Blight came and her already torn apart world turned upside down and rattled so violently every certainty in her life vanished. The solid foundations it stood upon; her family and Ferelden; her home was tainted and every other loss she suffered was merely a consequence of the Blight itself. 

Maker only knew how it came to be that in all the mess of bloody aftermath she met Anders, the man of her dreams. Yet not only was their life fucked up because of the mage’s oppression and the Spirit that shared his body; but the connection in between him and Darkspawn, these ancient, foul creatures was far deep and grave than she had ever imagined. 

She told Anders a thousand times not to worry about their future and that living day by day with him by her side was all she wanted, but this whole Calling business suddenly cut the number of their shared days from a vague infinity to a dreadful end not so far away on the horizon.  _ Fuck! I need to find a cure for the Taint, don’t I? Maybe Callista could help. _

Lyra cursed and punched the crate she was sitting on upon the realisation of the Hero’s swift farewell and the burned bridges she left in her wake. No way to find the legend, no contact given.

Reaching a dead end in the train of her thoughts, the Champion slowly fell into some kind of gloomy trance, her eyes watering with frustration and fingers scraping the wood alongside her with spiteful satisfaction. After minutes, or maybe hours, she couldn’t really tell the time, Lyra heard soft footsteps and a barely audible ruffle of feathers. She didn’t need to turn her head to recognise the intruder of her quiet sulking on the watch.       

“Anders, you should get some sleep as well.” 

“I can’t sleep down here, too many voices bickering in my head. The Darkspawn song, Justice, and one that I suspect is this Corypheus. It’s driving me nuts.” With an exhausted sigh Anders slouched down on the crate beside her, elbows propped against his knees, and hiding his face into his open palms, his breathing quick, an unmistakable sign of an anxiety attack.

“I hope they aren’t slandering my heavenly clean household or my excellent cooking skills.”

The tiny shake of Anders’ shoulders told Lyra, she had indeed made him chuckle. That was the thing her words were useful for; how to calm him down and balm his suffering soul. Well, she usually kinda left that to her body, which reacted to the man’s needs with intuitive accuracy. 

Her arm reached out and loosened Anders’ messy bun to let the curtain of dark blond hair fall down and hide even the delicate temples which were just visible above his palms. Her fingers then danced through the tresses and caressed the sensitive skin of his scalp, traced the outline of his ear, tickled the side of his neck. Bit by bit the tension in between Anders’ shoulderblades began to fade, his breathing slowed down and he straightened up to meet her gaze. As amber eyes searched green, they both breathed out the question.

“Are you alright, love?”

“Are you alright, beloved?”

Soft smiles curled up their lips and the mage pulled his rogue closer, one hand at her hip, the other caressing her cheek with fingers buried in the black locks. Their foreheads pressed together, nose tips rubbing lightly, they couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Love, your taste for a romantic vacation is very questionable, to say the least. Next time the choice will be mine.”

Lyra snorted. “Sure, what do you have in mind? A deserted cave where we would run a mouse farm for all the cats you would pick up along the road?”

“Oh shut it, woman.” The left corner of Anders’ mouth twitched up into an amused grin, he closed the last small gap in between their lips and started to kiss Lyra, savouring the precious moment of chirpiness. 

After what seemed like merely few lousy seconds, Anders pulled away from his wife. “I can feel something.”

“Sure you can, I would be offended if you didn’t.” 

“I mean Darkspawn, you dirty gal.”

“Are you sure of this new nickname for your little toy, beloved? Seems a bit cocky.” Lyra couldn’t help the tease, yet she opened her senses to the surroundings as well, no chance would be given to some evil lurking in the dark.

Without other answer than an amused snort, Anders grabbed for his staff and flooded the chamber in icy, bright light. In an instant, a lot of commotion erupted behind their backs, the rest of the party woke up with a start, squinted into the blinding light and swore in their own characteristic fashion. 

“By the last standing guardsman!”

“First Enchanter’s sassy hat!”

“Shit! This dwarf is blinded and pissed. Hawke, snuff out your shining husband!”

Lyra responded in a hushed bark over her shoulder, while focusing her whole attention on the front. “Hush and to arms.” 

She didn’t need to tell them twice, their battle formation stood ready in a blink of an eye, staring at the archway leading into a dark corridor, staring for several minutes. Nothing, Apart from the shuffle of restless feet, and a few impatient coughts. 

Varric broke the tense silence. “Blondie, is this a useless drill to deprive us of well earned sleep or are  _ we  _ indeed hearing something?”

Anders frowned, straining his eyes to see the nonexistent. “ _ We _ are _ feeling _ something.”

“Could it mayhaps be the unfairly huge chunk of salted pork you had for dinner?”

“No it couldn’t, unless it could sing the blighted tune. But I have to admit I’m out of practice in estimating the proximity of Darkspawn. Especially in such a complex, multilevel maze.”

Lyra patted his arm. “Alright, everyone. Anders and Aveline will stand guard here, and Beth, Varric and I will pack the camp. We should be moving further down, nonetheless.”

And so they did, munching some tasteless crackers on the way, which almost choked Lyra to death as all of sudden a familiar voice began to boom of the walls. Her father. He spoke of the Grey Warden’s threats towards his family and the blood demanding service they blackmailed him to perform. And then Bethany stood still, frozen with shock upon the realisation their father dreaded the possibility his unborn child could be a mage as well. 

Before Lyra could rush to her sister and offer some comfort, Anders was there, taking Bethany’s hand in his, whispering into her ear. Bethany squeezed Anders’ hand in return, a shadow of a smile ran over her lips. Lifting her chin and making eye contact with Lyra, she nodded in reassurement. “I’m alright, big sis.”

“Fine, let’s go then, sweep clear this blighted place.” The Champion walked in the front, alongside Aveline to detect any possible traps, before the warrior could stumble into them. She often turned her head back to the rear, where Anders walked side by side with her sister, chatting and making her giggle.

“Hawke, stop looking back or you will dislocate your delicate, white neck. There’s no need to be jealous.” Varric caught up with Lyra and eyed his friend with concern. “I guess all this family mess is making you and Sunshine both nervous and uncomfortable. Blondie is just trying to help her. You know, mage to mage.”

“I know.”

“That’s my girl.”

“And I’m not jealous.”

“Sure.”

“I just need to kill something.”

“Naturally.”

The unmistakable rattle of skeletons reached their ears and Varric couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well Hawke, what a lucky killer you are.”

………………………...

Later that day, they managed to unlock the second seal and slaughter its Guardian with his annoying replicas. After the fight, Lyra noticed Anders leaning against a nearby stone wall, ashen faced, eyes closed, mumbling something under his breath. She dropped the loot and rushed to her husband’s side.

“Anders?”

“”I’m not listening. I’m not listening!” The mage seemed to be trapped in his mind, oblivious to his surroundings and her. Carefully, the Champion reached for him, took his clammy hand into her warm one and pressed it to her lips.

“Beloved?” Lyra’s breath danced over his knuckles and the thin skin of the back of his palm. With a start her husband opened his amber eyes and she saw the subtle, icy blue shimmer in their depths.

“It’s Justice, isn’t it?”

Anders went for a reassuring smile which only ended up in an exhausted smirk. “Yes. I guess he’s trying to protect me against this Corypheus, who is constantly talking to me, louder and louder, commanding me to free him of this prison. And Justice doesn’t like it one bit, so he tries to take over me, the only defence he knows. I don’t know how long can I hold against him.”

Lyra cupped his cheek and swipe off the cold sweat from his brow. “I’m so sorry I brought you here.”

“Love, you couldn’t have known! All we expected was crazy carta. Well brooding about it won’t help, we need to kill the bastard.”

“Hawke, Blondie! Come here, the Larius bloke limped in to talk to us again!”

………………………………………

Lyra pulled her dagger out of a stinking genlock with an annoyed frown. The thought of the same taint that drove this vicious creature circling in Anders’ veins seemed too much to digest. She opened the small, handy flask she never forgot to take along and hissed as the last free drops of brandy, which merely stoked her cravings.  _ I never anticipated this would be a large barrel kinda trip. _

Anders came to her and stood just out of arm’s reach, his gaze focused on the beast at his wife’s feet. All color gone, his face was ashen, the worry lines more distinct than usual, his back slouched, exhaustion radiating from his very bones. 

“Anders, beloved. You look terrible.”

No grinn, no attempt for bravado. His voice came out flat, he was deliberately avoiding eye contact. “There’s a lot of ugliness in my life, you should stay away from me.”

“Oh don’t you dare pull this crap on me again! I’m not leaving you, I would fight the archdemon for you, silly.”

“I wish I had some of your energy and determination. I feel so tired and old. The taint in my blood, the voices… they are wearing me down. I hope I can hold against him, against them both.”

Lyra closed the ridiculous gap in between them, hugged him tight, grabbed his chin and forced Anders’ amber eyes to meet her own. “Would distracting you with a kiss help? No? Think happy thoughts. Raindrops, roses, kittens.”

Finally a shadow of a smile danced over Anders’ lips and he bend down for a kiss. “I’d take the kiss now and two kittens later, thank you very much.”

…………………………….

And so their struggle in that forsaken place continued. Some hours later, after slaughtering a huge pack of deepstalkers, their acid poison still smeared on their gear, the party marched through the base floor of Corypheus’ prison in grim silence, every one of them submerged in their thoughts. None other than the Champion was the first one to break the heavy quietude. “Sooo how can this Coryfucker talk to Wardens and Darkspawn if he’s asleep? Is it something like dreaming and talking from it? Like me calling for Anders or booze?”

Varric chuckled nearby. “Sounds about right, Hawke. Doesn’t it Blondie?  _ Blondie! _ ”

But Anders’ response didn’t come. The healer stopped in his track, holding his head in both palms, fingers of his right convulsively gripping his forehand, his left tugging on his hair, ruining the already loose ponytail.

The mage’s desperate cry bounced of the rocks, and chilled the party to their bones. “Stop! Just make him stop talking! Make him stop!”

Bethany, the one nearest at hand, jumped to Anders’ aid, reacting on instinct and wrapping him in a soothing spell. “We have to find a way to calm him down!” Few seconds later, her spell seemed to work a bit, as the mage stopped screaming and just collapsed on the rocky ground, hugging his knees in an elementary self-soothing position. 

Lyra kneeled over him and started to redo his ponytail, partly because she knew the calming effect her fingers in his hair had for Anders and partly to keep her own fidgety hands busy.  _ This is a whole new level of fucked up mess. _

“I think another rest is in order. Does anyone have a stronger drink besides deepstalker acid?” Lyra eyed her companions, all three of them showing signs of anxiety in their own characteristic manner. Aveline was checking all the buckles on her armor, the most of pointless acts, as there couldn’t be anything in better shape than the Guard Captain’s gear; Varric started to polish Bianca furiously, although he had tucked away the wooly cloth just few minutes ago; and Bethany was playing with her hair and biting on her pinkie.

Lyra kissed the top of Anders’ head, which he scarcely noticed, being submerged in a kind of melancholic trance; then with a frown she gestured to the lot to follow her out of the healer’s earshot. They shuffled after her, silent and grim. “People, we need to get our shit together! We need to help him, give all the energy we have to support him. Otherwise he can’t hold against the fucker.” 

With a grunt and the most annoying screeching sound of her armor Aveline sat down on a slimy rock and frowned at the misty underground lake. “It’s just hard to fight and keep looking over my shoulder to see if he hadn’t lostdidn’t lose it to whatever demon occupies his head and turned against us.”

“Now Aveline, that’s a bit harsh, even for you. I know Blondie’s mind might get a bit boo boo now and then, but his heart is always in the right place. I agree with Hawke, there’s no way we would leave a man behind.”

“I did not say I would leave him behind, Varric! I would never leave a man behind!” The warrior’s voice rose and she hit her chestplate with her iron fist. 

“Good, fine, excellent, all happy horses here.” Lyra reacted quickly in order to prevent any unnecessary quarrel. “Beth, could you keep an eye on my man and calm him down with that brilliant spell of yours? It seemed to help him a bit.”

“You can count on me, big sis.”

“Good, fine, excellent, go on my happy horses, then. We have work to do.”

……………………………….

Alas all their efforts turned out to be useless, as not even after half an hour back on the march, Anders stumbled and gripped his head once again, the urgency of his scream more pressing than ever. 

“I can’t! The voices! Wardens… the Joining… I have too much taint in my blood, I can’t shut him out! Help me, love!” Lyra’s eyes began to water as she felt his despair and wasn’t able to provide a cure for this blighted curse. The moment she reached her man, Anders wailed, as a flash of icy blue light pierced the gloomy surroundings.

“I will not….” his most human, agonized voice broke and the unearthly booming one of Justice bounced of every surface in the cave, “BE CONTROLLED!”

Lyra exhaled all the accumulated stress, fear and anger in one long, heavy breath, looking with disbelieve upon Justice accompanied with two summoned Shades looming in front of them. 

“Oh Justice, for fuck sake, let it go! There’s a better way to fight. I won’t allow the Emissary to control Anders…”

The Shades advanced and forced the Champion to defend herself. The fight came uncalled for and there was nothing left to do but the unspeakable. Lyra froze the minute she killed the advancing Shade, through the puff of stinky black smoke she watched the second creature being burned down by Bethany, and with a whole new level of anguish, saw Aveline slamming her shield with all her brute might into Justice’s chest. Her husband’s chest. Everything slowed down into languid motion, her heart held prisoner by unmatched horor, the nightmare that was her husband’s death. Her ears filled with a strange cacophony of eerie sounds, Lyra could have felt distant, severed from the ongoing spectacle, but for the fact that it was her who felt Anders’ ribs crack, the brutal blow to his head upon landing on the ground, the excruciating pain of breath knocked out of his lungs. 

The second her heartbreaking cry frightened the rest of the party to think their leader might be physically hurt, the shock of the assault caused Justice to retreat into the back of Anders’ mind and the mage came to his senses. The two Hawke sisters rushed to the fallen man’s side, one to comfort the soul, the other to heal the body. Bethany, busy with mending Anders’ cracked ribs didn’t even noticed her sister’s tears, falling down on her man’s hair, as Lyra was cradling his bruised head in her lap.

The most beautiful amber eyes in all of the Thedas opened and focused on the Champion.   

“Thank you, love.”

His woman managed to smile and hiccuped against the tears, as he continued to push away the unnerving incident. 

“I’m fine, love.” Somehow Anders found strength and balance, seeing Lyra crying over him, in need for comfort. “Not even an extra new hole in my sock, don’t you worry.” He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, planted four soft kisses, one on each knuckle and rested his cheek against her palm. “I guess they were right, you can’t ever leave the Wardens. I hope I can hold against him. Against them both from now on.”

 

Song:  
  
[RED - Not Alone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ODDtLMiGnY)

 


End file.
